inexplicably often, when NB and i lived in our magical first home on 12th and A, we would jam out to Bob Seger’s “Night Moves” in the cloying heat, while ribbons of smoke suspended themselves in the air and cold PBRs left sweat rings on our kitchen table. terry richardson brought me back there this morning for a nostalgic minute, posting the photo below on his blog. Seger’s classic ballad is underneath.