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Nestled on the banks of the Mekong River, Thloc Chhroy looks like the typicalrural Cambodian village. Mango trees thick with fruit are everywhere. Fishermen cast their nets from small motorboats. Elders lounge inhammocks, while children on bikes too big for them bounce along rutted dirt tracks.

Two years ago, when I was chairing a large Harvard undergraduate program called History and Literature, I had what seemed to me at the time a bright idea. We had a regular forum in which we scheduled lectures by distinguished visiting scholars whose work boldly crossed disciplinary boundaries.

After hearing an ad on Howard Stern's radio show or seeing a schlocky commercial on late-night TV, you might find yourself on AshleyMadison.com—the premier "dating" website for aspiring adulterers. 

Until July I shared an apartment in England with two cousins, Lorenz and Alessandro. When I moved out at short notice, I was worried that I'd left the pair in the lurch, but as it turned out my timing couldn't have been better

In late April, Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger was about to address some five thousand travel-industry representatives from around the world who had gathered at the Los Angeles Convention Center for their annual trade show. 

SAM GREW UP in an Alberta hamlet, a place of no consequence to anyone but those fortunate enough to have been born there. The kind of place where you raise two fingers off the steering wheel in greeting when you pass another car on the road.

In January, 2009, a thirty-one-year-old prostitute visited a clinic in Kyoto, Japan, for a routine checkup. Because sex workers are so likely to acquire sexually transmitted diseases, many have themselves checked for infections even in the absence of symptoms. 

I try to call my Great Aunt Doris every day. She's ninety-years old and lives alone. I love her desperately and as she gets older, especially of late as she becomes more feeble, my love seems to be picking up velocity, overwhelming me almost, tinged as it is with panic -- I'm so afraid of losing her.

"I'll wear a flower in my hair or something," Karen Raley says chirpily, "because you'll never recognize me from my mug shot!"She sits in a back booth at Roasters' n Toasters in Aventura. It's her favorite diner, a low-key joint where the bagels are cheap. She doesn't seem to mind that it once employed one of the men who murdered her husband.

The first guy I ever turned down on Grindr for having HIV, my patient zero if you will, is all kinds of hot: hot in the face, hot in the body and hotheaded. In May, he asked me to come over and make out.

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