In my first year at Time Magazine, I was sitting in the Miami airport with my bf, who had had already a starry career, Moscow, Berlin, White House correspondent, and we were chatting away happily with a couple of women of indeterminate age. I had just escaped snowy London; the house in which I lived had no central heating because my landlady felt that “central heating kills a house”. So I was ebullient and finally, not cold.
“What do you two do?” one finally asked. “We work at Time magazine,” I ...
Published on August 27, 2024 21:01