This time of year calls for reduced joy, but I can't stop listening to the classics.
Elizabeth considers the challenges of memory and commemoration, all from the standpoint of her Jerusalem balcony.
I used to hate small talk. I still mostly do. But I'm starting to think we might be able to redeem it.
We need a sense of history so deep it’s more like memory.
On transformation - and the space in between all the stops along the way.
Without intending to be nostalgic for a time that isn’t mine
When we are all muddling around in the dark, what will light up the night?
A meditation on the demands of memory, and the roots of personal identity
