You can think of The Paris Letters as a series of essays, an ongoing conversation, a catalogue of ideas, and a repository of thoughts . . . in newsletter form. Published once a month on a Sunday, the letters range from personal stories to cultural critiques. If that sounds interesting to you, subscribe here si’l vous plaît and join the conversation. Some of my other writing from over the years below.
French Words and Fighter Jets
There’s an art gallery just off Armenia street in the Mar Mikhail district of Beirut that sells a variety of novelty goods – soap from Aleppo, hand-stamped Iranian linens, black and white photographs from the Lebanese Civil War, books on art.
An Interlude in the Holy Land
Our official tour of the Old City began the next day in the Armenian Quarter, where our guide paused along a narrow corridor to reflect on the Armenian Genocide. “Do you know what happened to the Armenian people under the Ottoman Empire?” he asked.
Walls of Separation and the Call to Prayer
In New York it was the sirens that nettled, piercing through triple-paned glass seventeen stories above the avenue at all hours of the day and night. In Kabul it’s the call to prayer that distracts, albeit less frequently, and which I wake to most mornings.
Warlords & Takeout
My first week in Kabul has been filled with takeout dinners at home, homemade English breakfast, all day brunches in private gardens, and bonfires at night. These are things you wouldn’t think possible in Afghanistan.
“Love words, agonize over sentences, and pay attention to the world.”
— Susan Sontag