

Culture of LifeWe met in the bookstore, browsing through magazines preaching about the culture of life and death and listing the tragic flaws of capitalism. He was a photographer and a tea aficionado, and I was a writer with a crippling addiction to gourmet coffee. We bonded over muffins and warm drinks. Two hours of conversation later, lukewarm dregs of drinks were tossed away and phone numbers were exchanged, scribbled on “Subscribe Now!” cards with a pen I kept in my back pocket.Culture of Life
Six days later, my phone rang and I answered noncommittally, “Yes?” He was sorry he hadn’t been in touch for so long, but he had had to drive down to Mexico to capt
Theatricks