By the time you read this, another weekend in Boston will be coming to its close. Since I’m writing this in anticipation of that, who can say what turns the time will take? At the moment of this writing, all is hope and possibility, perched precariously on the winds of chance, and fate. The best weekends are like that – without plan or agenda or expectation – and Boston has never let me down. Especially Boston at night.
Back to Blog