Copyright: Elzbieta Sekowska

Food Fight

When he raised his hand to threaten her, I lost it. All at once it wasn’t Natalia, the 7-year-old girl for whom I was a newly arrived nanny in Alicante, Spain, ...

In Need of a Respectable Cabin

We came to the “cabin” in midwinter, trekking with backpacks all day from Silverton, Colorado. Dave on skis with skins, me on snowshoes. In the late afternoon, ...

This Point until Tomorrow

The following project took on several iterations. The original idea was to interview kitchen workers. The back of the house – dishwashers, prep cooks, the line....

Requiem for a Squirrel

It’s winter 2009. The recession has sent its hungry tendrils into every economic crevice, including my husband’s and my freelance work in carpentry and writi...

The Making of a Man

I was raised in a household where dead game animals were on constant parade through the house. In they’d come with feathers, fins and fur. We’d strip them of th...

Forget Your Perfect Offering

On the eve of butchering day, I was in the kitchen of our one-room house on a hill. A single light burned. I scraped a blade against a stone, the sound slicing ...