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date. 2020 - 2021

cities. new york city​, berlin, rome

Image by Anuja Mary Tilj


In this series, I set out to get behind the cliché and discover the meanings of love past and present through readings, practices, and  personal experiments.

Image by Jr Korpa


It's all in the name.

This section is updated on a spontaneous basis.

Image by Nick Fewings

week one.

I invented a game today. It’s called Make Love to the City. Here are the rules:

Image by Mike Kenneally

week two.

Today is election day and I wanted to do something nice, so I picked up a gallon of coffee and started giving out free cups.

Image by Marek Okon

week three.

Imagine waking up one morning and finding that every person on earth has disappeared and you’re the only one left.

Image by Simon Migaj

week four.

This week, I'll try to begin discussing something I've been procrastinating about getting into: drugs.

Image by Mike Gorrell

week five.

I finally got around to reading Plato’s dialogue on love, Symposium. I forgot just how funny he is! He begins with a discussion of whether they should get drunk that night. I kid you not.

Image by Jason Schjerven

week six.

I’ve always been interested in nudity. I’m personally rather self-conscious about my body, but I’ve had an inkling that there's something unhealthy about my shame.

Image by Grant Whitty

week seven.

It goes without saying that love can make any life worth living. But there’s a darker side to love. A side of love that is perhaps more intimately related to death than we’d like to believe.

Image by Jr Korpa

week eight.

I dropped acid last weekend. It’s really hard to talk about (it feels way too personal to think about, let alone write about), but I think it’s important to try.

Image by Markus Spiske

week nine.

My sister needed a vacation but didn’t know what to do with her kids. I’ve been focusing on family a lot lately, so, much to her surprise, I quickly offered to take care of them for a couple days.

Image by NordWood Themes

week ten.

I’m undergoing this process of transitioning from appreciating my friends for the ways in which we’re similar, to appreciating them for who they are in themselves.

Image by Geng Sittipong Sirimaskasem

week eleven.

I went with my roommate to pick up some books from the Strand and took advantage of the walk to discuss something that's been cropping up lately: the irrationality of community.

Image by Lauren Kay

week twelve.

To be honest, I haven’t been feeling all that loving lately. But here are some fragmented thoughts on the economy of dating apps, the illusiveness of chemistry, and some good old Freud.

Image by Gautam Krishnan

week thirteen.

My friend, Jo, is one of the most loving people I know, and has functioned as a kind of model for me during this 'experiment'. So I was overjoyed when she agreed to let me pick her brain.

Image by Ira Selendripity

week fourteen.

So many things happened to me (for me? with me? within me?) over the past few days. My roommate was out of town Saturday so I finally had some (physical and mental) space to myself.

Image by Motoki Tonn

week fifteen.

The monk, lounging gracefully atop his misty mountain, gazes peacefully out across a restless earth. He disentangles himself from the struggles, torments, and confusions of ordinary life.

Image by Claudio Schwarz | @purzlbaum

week sixteen.

Orthodox Jewish men and women who are not married to each other are not allowed to touch in an affectionate way. This is called being Shomer Negiah [literally: watching/protecting your touch].

Image by pouria oskuie

week seventeen.

Every year before ‘parents teacher night’, my elementary school teacher would tell the class that the greatest gift a child can give their parents is the gift of nachas.

Image by Dan Gold

week eighteen.

My love is irrational. I can never explain it to others, and there is no chance that they will learn to love it too. Rather than an exchange, my love is presented freely, as a gift.

Image by Jed Adan

week ninteen.

Last weekend, I escaped the city with a couple of friends for the nature and calm of Woodstock. It was to be a self-imposed mindfulness retreat.

It went something like this.

Image by Andres Corredor

week twenty.

The question must be posed: Is it possible to embrace a friend without distancing an enemy? Is it possible to make love, without establishing a foundation for hatred?

Image by Johannes Plenio

week twenty one.

I’ve started teaching myself how to play piano. I still can’t play for shit, but sometimes I’ll linger over individual notes, letting them hang in the air far too long, savoring the beautiful sounds.

Image by Gaelle Marcel

week twenty two.

What's the relationship between love and intimacy?

At first glance, it seems obvious. What could be more related that love and intimacy. They'll like two peas in a pod; almost identical.


week twenty three.

I finished reading the Dalai Lama’s autobiography last night. I actually ended up spending the whole day reading it. Can the Lama be separated from his people? How do leaders relate to their people?


week twenty four.

I spent the week reading a collection of Gandhi’s writings. I had been led to believe that Gandhi was some kind of great lover. Cuz, you know, the whole non-violence thing.

Image by Philipp Berndt

week twenty five.

Some afternoon thoughts on empty spaces,
sudden endings, new beginnings,
and the childishness of love.

Image by Mel Poole

week twenty six.

Every object in the world exists in two ways: as a totality and as a fragment.

The trick, it seems, is to accept both.


week twenty seven.

A conversation with my friend and teacher, Lara, on the intersection of love, health, nature, devotion, and the subtle surprises of small steps.

Image by Cristian Newman

week twenty eight.

I went to visit my grandmother for the first time in a couple years. Here are some thoughts on family, lost opportunities, and time's impermanence.


week twenty nine.

Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in


week thirty.

I now realize that,
in order to fall in love with one person,
I must first fall in love with the entire world.

Image by Sylvanus Urban

week thirty one.

One morning, as Gregor Samsa was waking up from anxious dreams, he discovered that the world had been changed into a delightful candy shop.

Image by Pascal Meier

week thirty two.

I am suffocating. Slowly suffocating.
I inhale your love,
filling my lungs with your noxious fumes.
I am addicted to your poison, I smoke a pack a day.

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week thirty three.

Thoughts while sitting in Gallery 601 of the Met.

Love is almost beautiful.

Image by Veit Hammer

week thirty four.

I said goodbye to NYC.

For now.

Image by Nathan Anderson

week thirty five.



Home is such a funny word.

Image by Annie Spratt

week thirty six.

I’ve been thinking about how
friendships are formed.
I'm high, so hopefully this will
makes sense when I'm sober.

Image by Matthew Waring

week thirty seven.

The first 20 or 30 minutes after I wake up

are often the hardest moments in my day.

But love can make that easier.


week thirty eight.

Lola is a psychoanalyst.
Here, she talks to me about my struggles
finding and forgetting

Image by Danilo Batista

week thirty nine.

Rejection, is like having

all the oxygen in the room

suddenly sucked out

without any warning.

Image by David Todd McCarty

week forty.

I just made love to myself in the bathtub.
I was so excited
that I ran to my laptop
to write about it.

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