It's beginning to look a lot like brackets, everywhere I go. Whether it's when I look at the Manhattan skyline or the cracks in the sidewalks or even in my dreams, the mere suggestion of March spurs visions of a confluence of horizontal lines toward the center of the page.
For 25 years I've been obsessed with the NCAA Division I men's basketball tournament. Every March during my adolescence, the walls of the spare bedroom in my house were littered with index cards depicting the tournament's progression. The obsession grew in college with the same wallpaper.