The cluster of dwellings, a motley collection of ancient ruins and pristine modern cottages, beckoned, as I swerved off the road running parallel to the Noce torrent.
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The first time that I wrote something, I was in Japan, eating an egg that I’d hard- boiled in a Hello Kitty kettle with Engrish faux-proverbs all over the side.
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A man walks into the needle exchange.
Sounds like the start of a joke, doesn’t it.
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Sculptor Dr Gindi, explores the human soul’s yearning for infinity through her artwork. Her latest sculpture Meandering Souls captures one moment in the soul’s journey: the tender moment between longing ...
He reminded me of a teacher I’d had in grad school, who emphasized focusing on an image of a butterfly flying away as I played.
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“When I step into the Redwood Grove of the Arboretum, I enter a different world.” Today’s #EssaySaturday is “Walking in the Arboretum” by Jane Beal.
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“My heart rate has been normal and steady since then. Until this trip.” Today’s #EssaySaturday is “Hospitality” by Wendy Lane.
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“I hold onto the romantic notion of the cairn as an act of love.” Today’s #EssaySaturday is “On Moving West and Back Again” by Carrie Esposito.
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“The prospect of injecting something new into work, even if only the setting and the company, delighted me.” Today’s #EssaySaturday is “Workation in Ojai” by Hantian Zhang.
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On fate and closely-escaped death over time and generations, our latest #EssaySaturday is “Fate Chronicle Across Decades”, by Ali Nasir.
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“The two of us have started to see hands everywhere, like a clumsy metaphor.” Today’s #EssaySaturday UK is “Human Fish” by Niamh Riordan.
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“I have one eye trained on the volcanic mountain…” Today’s #EssaySaturday is “The Current Unrest” by Kaitlin Solimine.
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I briefly look up from my frantic journaling, glancing at the cloud cover out the window.
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I elongated vowels, chewed on consonants until I read world-building sentences.
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One Sunday morning, there was a knock on my door. There’d been a party the night before, and I hadn’t gone to bed until 4 a.m. I couldn’t imagine who ...
I stood from the cot next to the shared wall. My mom leaned in close to hear you. Another crash. Furniture scraping against the floor. We listened to someone’s heavy ...
Put some music on. Go on, put something on. Sometimes we would last two tracks, sometimes three. The hand that unhitched itself from the steering wheel and put us back ...
The sun beats through the humid air, upon the stone and dirt streets. High cumulus clouds drift above the heavy-forest limestone mountains.
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The train between Mexico City and Nuevo Laredo was called the Águila Azteca (Aztec Eagle). Within a year of this ride, this passenger train service – along with dozens upon dozens ...
He indicated a solitary rose drooping against a cracked wall in which curious lizards cocked their heads, and then he swept his arms encompassing everything around us.
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