by PhilipEliot | Jan 10, 2026
A few years ago I saw a young woman crying into a paperback on the morning train. I had a travel pack of tissues on me and cautiously slid one toward her the way you pass salt at dinner—practical, unceremonial, matter-of-fact. I didn’t want to embarrass her, or...
by PhilipEliot | Aug 6, 2025
I go to the beach most days. Same spot. I drop my backpack on a white rock, take off my shirt, wade in. Waist deep, I dive — surface on my back — and paddle slowly out to the count of 100. It’s far enough to be quiet and solitary, but not so far that I wonder what’s...
