About Yannis, the Champion of Champignons
“He worked summers along the Riviera as a tour guide, he told me, mostly for ‘rich assholes’ but sometimes for ‘nice Russian women.’ These were the two categories into which he put most of the world’s population and I think it struck him as refreshing, if not downright serendipitous, that I didn’t fit neatly into either one.”
About the First Time I Met Charles Manson
“He still had an enviable crop of hair and beard, now gray and relatively kempt, and though his skin was doughy and shadow-less his eyes were as soft and expressive as a pig's. As he sat at a visitation table in clean blue chambray, he looked less like America's most dangerous criminal and more like the original Maytag Man, waiting fist-to-cheek.”
About Portobello Road
“I walk down Portobello Road, past the bright blue, red, and yellow facades of buildings that I have no desire to enter, past glossy, small boutiques filled with narrow-hipped women…I’m wearing clean scrubs, clogs. A foreigner. Refugee from a hospital, wanting to preserve my other life, the person I was before the sacrifices of this long training.”
My Guantánamo, and Theirs
"I didn’t get to see Camp X-Ray on my first trip to Guantánamo—in 2003, for The New York Times Magazine. The original detention facility for prisoners of the war on terror, it was used for only a few months, until something larger and sturdier was ready. But on my second visit, in 2014 for Vanity Fair, the military placed the abandoned prison on the itinerary for the morning of my third and final day.”