Gratefully grounded in rural Brooklyn, my dog at hand and the graceful boughs of the American Elm shading my window from five stories up. Like at home, I took a walk around the neighborhood this morning and picked up some little zucchinis from the community garden and a very large stack of books. Reading is a glorious summer activity, curled up on a blanket until the light is inarguably too dim. On Thursday I sat outside the bandshell and listened to mariachi and Mexican ballads from Lila Downs while devouring Exit West by Mohsin Hamid, the glow from my phone no doubt as annoying to some as the guy smoking tobacco. But it is a great book- romantic and timely.