Terrorism, assassination, and lightning strikes — On March 20, 1995, members of the Aum cult released sarin in five Tokyo subway trains. They transported a liquid form of the nerve gas in plastic pouches, disguising the packages by wrapping them in newspaper. Boarding underground trains, cult members placed the poison on the carriage floor and used…

I once knocked over a Billy bookcase in an Ikea store. An old woman screamed as it fell. I was being dragged around by a housemate, but he could well have been a girlfriend or a parent — I’ve been led through furniture stores by a succession of people close…

A toddler walks a dog along a country track. He heads toward the camera. There is a line of trees behind the boy, and grass turns to scrubland on either side. The child wears a striped jacket and green rain boots. The light is autumnal. The dog, large, has a…

It’s easy. You need a can of tomatoes, some onion and garlic, beans (I like black), a bell pepper (hated by Mexicans), and a chilli pepper of your choice. You’ll need minced beef, too. For seasoning, I go for chilli powder, obviously, some paprika, and cumin. I don’t know if…

Children are afraid of hand dryers. YouTube is full of videos of kids crying in restrooms, the hand dryers roaring and callous parents laughing. My son is no exception. I used to avoid coffee shops I knew didn’t possess paper towels, no matter how sweet their pastries. Being a parent…

Morning — You’re in San Francisco or wherever. Is Silicon Valley in San Francisco? Either way, you probably live there… with the other tech people. And having rolled out of your single bed, you’re probably on a bus. A corporate bus. You register your place on the bus using your phone. You…

Fatherhood, Masculinity, and Tears — I didn’t cry when my son was born. He did, but I didn’t. It was a shrill sound, more a broken toy than a human. Me, I was too stunned to cry. Later, as his mother recovered in the ward, I looked down at this tiny, helpless form. I didn’t…

Forced conversation, windows, and lots of meat. — Day One It was the World Series. Los Angeles’ Union Station heaved with blue-shirted supporters. Nobody knew where to head, unless they headed for the bar. I thought to head there too, until seeing the queue for service. Instead, I went to the information desk, where two uniformed police officers leant. Hollywood…