Where the Wild Things Are

A Bridgeport zoo adopts an orphaned bobcat kitten.

Photo by Shannon Calvert. We meet for the first time in October 2012, with a set of metal bars between us. Safe on our opposite sides, we size each other up. BeeZe (rhymes with “easy”) blinks first, blandly, which only goes to show you the stupidity of a staring contest with an opponent who’s indifferent to the game. BeeZe has nothing to prove. BeeZe is a creature of limitless patience. BeeZe has eyes worth a long deep stare: hazel-colored and lamp-like, their expression lying somewhere. . . Read more
Sophia Nguyen
Love, at First Sight

Literary flings for an intern in the city.

Sometime during the second or third week of your publishing internship, your boss swivels away from her monitor and asks, “How do you feel about romance?” You don’t feel anything anymore. You have been photocopying foreign contracts for days, and this has made you numb. Peering meekly from behind a fortress of overstuffed manila files, you repeat, inanely, “Romance?” Her gaze has already returned to her email. “Yeah. Regency.” You do feel something about this genre; some might call it “antipathy.” While you grope for. . . Read more
Sophia Nguyen
The Tinkerers

Apprentices at the Eli Whitney Museum learn to work with their hands.

The workshop at the Eli Whitney Museum. Bill Brown’s third-grade teacher once told him that if he didn’t learn to spell, he would be a truck driver. A few years later, another teacher threatened Brown with digging ditches for the rest of his life. Brown is now the director of the Eli Whitney Museum and Workshop. He speaks clearly and deliberately, and wears spectacles and an eye-patch over his right eye. “Well,” he smiles, “I own a truck, so I guess I am a truck. . . Read more
Sophia Nguyen