From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sight
The glare of the newsstand headlines makes my stomach churn, all that ink spilled over Berlin’s new sea orders and armed liners waiting in the gray Atlantic. I pulled my wool collar tight, watching a shopkeeper nervously adjust the price of bread to six cents while those new toggle switches flickered in the store window. Near the display, a child gripped a set of Lincoln Logs, his sticky fingers leaving smudges that made me recoil as if he had the cooties. Everything feels fragile today, from the ticking of those modern electric clocks to the peace we’re so desperately trying to hold onto.