Lila Seinfeld had relied on her electric boat’s autopilot to find the correct location. She had done this before several times that it was committed to memory: latitude 40.963 and longitude -72.185. Lila sat in the captain’s chair of the rented fishing rig which she had reserved a week before at the Hartford Harbor Marina. Hartford, Connecticut was one of the most active sea ports with a large bay and deep water, not to mention that several rail lines intersected at Hartford. (more…)
It was a few minutes short of midnight on November 7, 2000 and Al Gore was not pleased to be called from his hotel room and brought all the way to the White House by the Secret Service. He did not even have time to properly assemble his clothes. He was wearing blue jeans and a white shirt, not something he would want to be seen in on this dreadfully long election night. (more…)
Bill Keller sat in a cherry-wood chair with arms and a dark green cracked leather seat. The chair was by itself near an old window in an old room of the old New York Times building on West 43rd Street in Manhattan. Everything was old in The New York Times Building, and sometimes this comforted Bill Keller, and at other times he hungered to get out of there and move to the new headquarters under construction on Eighth Avenue and 40th Street. Old versus new. (more…)
The Muslim boy sat with his father on a Gaza beach. The white sand around the father was red from the blood that was blasted from the father’s body from a stray Israeli bomb. The Muslim boy was eight years old. (more…)
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