Ramova (or ruin)

I can’t recall whether I ever ate the famous chili at the Ramova Grill. The diner on Halsted has been shuttered for years. The movie palace of the same name next door has been closed many more. Both are known to most of us in Bridgeport as façades and nothing more. When beloved neighborhood hubsContinue reading “Ramova (or ruin)”

cut-up letters

I wake up at 6am. It’s still dark but I know what I have to do. I take a 30-year-old letter from a childhood friend, cut up pieces of it, and glue it onto the grey page of a spiral-bound Soviet-era notebook. I keep doing this for hours. The letters I’m gradually disappearing are theContinue reading “cut-up letters”

I miss the rains…

There’s a big show of art from Africa up at the museum. I’ve gone to see it three times so far. I’ll probably go back a few times more. The description of the show on the museum’s website—and likely in the wall texts throughout the galleries; none of which I’ve read—stresses a different approach toContinue reading “I miss the rains…”