Sitting in the press area at the Apella Theater on the east side of Manhattan, I looked up and saw this tall, slender, mobile robot zoom over to me, very Jetson-like. But it was a robot without arms or legs.
When you're on the side of a mountain in the middle of a range chock full of them, dusk turns to darkness in an instant. We were on hour six of our four hour hike, our large group of 25 people, all walking the same treacherous trail.
Unlike some of my contemporaries who can research an era hundreds of years ago and miraculously and imaginatively inject themselves into lost time, I feel creatively confined to the perimeters of my own life.