My Friend Max
He was a sweet and generous spirit, and a man of sterling character. I had many questions about his life, but none were bigger than the one I have about his death. He was 39.
Max last month, after hiking the length of Israel.
For me, Max’s face was the face. I remember thinking, when I encountered it and him, at a party in Brooklyn in March of 2023, “There it is.” His was a big head with a prominent nose and sad blue eyes that relaxed into crescent moons when he smiled, and a thinking man’s brow bone. His face was strong but kind, chiseled without being sharp. Max often wore…
Maintaining The Free Press is Expensive!
To support independent journalism, and unlock all of our investigative stories and provocative commentary about the world as it actually is, subscribe below.
Already have an account?
Sign In