Green Mountains Review published my essay “The Empty Space in Front of Your Hand.” It’s a personal essay on inexplicable coincidences, on the intersection of life and art, on friendship and love. It also tells the story of how my husband and I met.
“Michel was an old and charming man as only an old and charming painter in a Parisian atelier can be. He was our neighbor. Whenever we ran into each other in the courtyard and spoke, I let him touch my hands and in the summer even my bare shoulders. This was a huge thing for me, although I didn’t know at the time whether it meant a compromise or a victory. Michel was also my second novel.”