Katrina Woznicki

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Category: New York, New York

Who Gets to Be An American?

Posted on October 12, 2017October 12, 2017 by katrina

America’s story depends on where you stand. If you’re standing on the Navajo Nation reservation or maybe somewhere in Flathead, Montana, America’s story is a story about conquest and resilience. If you’re a black American whose ancestors were brought on slave ships, your story might be about survival and resilience. If you identify with those…

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Where Rabid Bobcats Roam

Posted on February 27, 2017February 27, 2017 by katrina

On the shuttle ride from Sedona to the airport in Phoenix, our driver shared with us the following: — A rabid bobcat attacked a waiter in Sedona who was putting out the trash. — How Arizona towns along the highway got their names: Bloody Basin; Big Bug Basin, Bumble Bee near Bumble Bee Creek, and…

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Crossing Borders

Posted on December 30, 2016December 30, 2016 by katrina

During a morning walk in suburban Florida this week, I passed this pile of discarded plastic flamingos on a lawn that looked cared for but not really used, and I couldn’t help but think about the American dream as we approach the inauguration of the next president. America is going through some funky, disturbing times….

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Christmas in New Netherland

Posted on December 6, 2016December 6, 2016 by katrina

On Sunday, I had brunch with a friend at a lovely French restaurant on the Upper East Side, where, to both our surprise, a simple bowl of berries cost $14. Just some chopped strawberries, blueberries and raspberries in a bowl. No fancy sauces or drizzled purees. I don’t even think the berries were organic—for all…

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20 Years Later

Posted on August 24, 2016August 25, 2016 by katrina

On Sunday, I sat on a plane that flew from Los Angeles to Newark. Flying always shocks me. It’s the take off, really. No matter how many times I do it, I still sit there, strapped down, picturing the pilot moving the throttle. Nose up, wheels up, wings up, and suddenly we’re at some unnatural…

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Recent Work

OFFASSIGNMENT: 6:32 A.M. AT BOUDHANATH STUPA in Kathmandu is a rapid current of silence and hope, a clockwise ritual that welcomes me without question. I can come. I can go. I can pray. I can walk and pretend to pray. It is the hour of the observant, of chants and prostrations, of prayer and potential... continue reading

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