EN

The Boston winter was relentless, a biting wind howling through the glass canyons of the financial district.

It was 8:50 PM on a cold, rainy Tuesday in London. The luxury jewelry house on New Bond Street was minutes

The sun was scorching over Rodeo Drive, but inside the “Aurelia Jewels” boutique, the air

The neon signs of Times Square blurred in the heavy midnight rain, reflecting off the puddles like shattered jewels.

The private terminal of the international airport was a cathedral of glass and steel, echoing with the

The penthouse of the Obsidian Tower was a fortress of glass and gold, hovering sixty stories above the

The fog rolled in thick off the Atlantic, swallowing the jagged cliffs of the Maine coastline.

The fog in Seattle that night was so thick you could slice it with a dull knife. At the edge of Pier

The wind in Chicago doesn’t just blow; it bites. On this particular Tuesday, the frost had turned the

The sun was blinding, reflecting off the white sand and the turquoise water of the bay. Sunday brunch