The Sacred Clutter, The Broken Boat, and the Architecture of Decay

It’s raining in South Florida, and the house is quiet. This week, my attention hasn't been on the algorithmic panic of the news cycle or the noise of the culture. It has been entirely occupied by the sacred clutter of my actual life: my mother's advancing Alzheimer's, my dog’s unexplained limp, and the clumsy, frustrating process of learning how to buil…