Loki cuts the hair of the goddess Sif. An illustration by Willy Pogany from the chapter “How Loki wrought mischief on Asgard” in Children...

Two Lovers Beneath an Umbrella in the Snow  Suzuki Harunobu (1725 (?)-1770) — public domain she moves in colours only I can see to music...

Two oldtimers playing chess on a Central Park bench in New York City, May 1946. National Archives — public domain toting their armies in...

Small courtyard in Flanders — Albert Baertsoen (1866–1922) — public domain walking these narrow streets of cobblestone testimony I should...

why wait for opportunity to knock when you know it has neither hand nor finger why wait for fate to find you when you know it’s blind...

photo by author © midnight and to the north a dogged sun still burns loath to shed her blazing harness and to the south a pale and...

Pieter Brueghel the Elder (1526/1530–1569) Children's Games (detail) - public domain those were the days of single a single car a single...

Mother and Child Sleeping — Eugène Carrière (1849–1906) tonight I’ll seek no sleep because to lie with you is dream enough as your...

photo by author © spent a lifetime climbing summits taking risks the mountain unforgiving yet failed to touch the stars but that’s...

Játszó gyermekek — Children playing - Árpád Cserépy (1859–1907) — public domain “TRULY! — TROLLA! — TROLLO!” I watch my children play...

forgive me but these photographs of earlier days only capture a passing reality as day by day I lived with you and never noticed change...

For most boys, there comes a time when they look up to their fathers and ask “can I try”, or “will you teach me?” — to fix that engine,...

There once was a man who collected clocks — tall and solid grandfather clocks; short and plump grandmother clocks; stylish wall and...

It all happened a long time ago, and I have no idea if the man is still alive today, but just to be safe and for the sake of privacy,...

The farmhouse I pass by the side of this godforsaken mountain road is a ruin, a shell, long abandoned, empty of humanity. Still, you’re...

Watching my father and his men ply their craft, I figured I knew a thing or two about dressing stones. But there’s ‘watching’, and then...

In a yard dedicated to the crafting of stone, they stood out like two sore thumbs, totally incongruous, the first one thin and stunted in...

I must’ve been about eight when I popped the fateful question “Mommy? Are we rich?” My mother turned from the stove, wooden spoon in...

Unlike my native Flemish, in which you’re simply called a tombstone maker, the English language offers two grand words to describe my...

Once a week, on Friday mornings, all of us boys at the Catholic primary school would troop down from our first-floor classrooms, one...