Notes from a safe space
The news from Orlando arrived at 6:03 a.m. Sunday — perhaps the only hour when the whole island is asleep — in the form of quiet alerts on smartphones, suddenly glowing on bedside tables, in jean shorts, under chaise lounges.
A good shot at the facts
Ten years ago today I first reported for work at The Washington Post. Deep Throat had come out a couple days earlier. I might have been wearing a tie. My pants sure as shit didn't fit.