a nervous, obligated curiosity We had witnessed the end of its long southbound journey out of mundanity and darkness. It was one more of the small, strange, lit up events the city offers, the tree like a hallucination, devoured by the darkening avenues, brought in to offer a visible reason to exclaim about something, the city inventing something upon which to rejoice. The holidays feel overwhelmingly personal, but perhaps the best thing about them is that they are not personal at all. look to the unnamed days of January and February

January was the month with a thousand days that would not die, but now it’s February and these tweets by my friend Mark Larson popped up in my head: What good is February? I used to think. February is a good month to die. February is a month for florists, with its Valentine’s Day bouquets and

We expect too much from January and not enough from February.— Mark Larson (@mlarson) February 3, 2012