[1]
Early Sunday morning, my brother–who lives in New England–emailed a photo of a thermometer perched on a mound of snow outside his house, with a reading of below zero. I waited a few hours until it was 70 degrees in L.A, and then sent him a screenshot of my weather app. This is typical for us. We’ve been having this conversation for decades. He loves braving the winter. I can’t bear it. Sometimes, I wonder if anyone could lure me out of Southern California. It’s hard to imagine. Warm weather is one of my non negotiables.
On the Balcony by Pascal Campion [1]