Jon-Emile S. Kenny MD [@heart_lung] “It was after this realization that I began trying to find the ‘point’ of California, to locate some message in its history.” -Joan Didion Background A few months ago, I found myself in one of my favourite places – the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. Meandering through the levels of skeletons, taxidermy and peculiar dioramas plucked from distant North American epochs, I reflected. For the decades that New York City has, and has not, been my home these static scenes anchor me and also arouse something faintly appreciable as Rousseau’s criticisms of modernity. Do these faux landscapes delight me because, in them, I see freedom? Do they transport me to the dread of residency and remind me that I persisted and matured? Does their permanence act as mental flotsam to which I cling in the churning, whirling, walloping commotion of nasal swabs, airports, rental cars and unfamiliar pillows? Do they ground my life – our lives – before this rotten pandemic?
Fact-Checking Buffalo Chest
Fact-Checking Buffalo Chest
Fact-Checking Buffalo Chest
Jon-Emile S. Kenny MD [@heart_lung] “It was after this realization that I began trying to find the ‘point’ of California, to locate some message in its history.” -Joan Didion Background A few months ago, I found myself in one of my favourite places – the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. Meandering through the levels of skeletons, taxidermy and peculiar dioramas plucked from distant North American epochs, I reflected. For the decades that New York City has, and has not, been my home these static scenes anchor me and also arouse something faintly appreciable as Rousseau’s criticisms of modernity. Do these faux landscapes delight me because, in them, I see freedom? Do they transport me to the dread of residency and remind me that I persisted and matured? Does their permanence act as mental flotsam to which I cling in the churning, whirling, walloping commotion of nasal swabs, airports, rental cars and unfamiliar pillows? Do they ground my life – our lives – before this rotten pandemic?