Don’t Judge a Fox by Its Socks
I judged a woman by her flaming fox sweatshirt. Then she and her mother danced circles around me—literally—and taught me a lesson I didn’t know I needed.
Saint Teresa of San Francisco: A Tale of a Demon Driver and the Woman Whose Compassion Saved Us
Stranded on a dark San Francisco street, Mike slumped onto a stoop, looking less like a guy with motion sickness and more like someone who had lost a fight with a bottle of tequila. People crossed the street to avoid us. That’s when I realized: we weren’t just stuck—we were being judged.