Back home, in my mother’s garden in an equatorial country, there is one small deciduous tree planted alone in front of the porch. Its large almond shaped leaves look chewable, and ...
My ex-fiancé, Sherrie, was the kind of woman you might call “intense.” She slammed her palms on the table or whatever surface was available when she was mad for ...
Pain throbs in every direction. I am encased in agony, trapped in a shell of bandaged layers. Please don’t jump off a bridge. It’s not as efficient and liberating ...
So dear Paloma, I know my voice messages can ramble but I need to talk. About our daughter. Maybe you’ve noticed on your weekends – she’s blooming, right? It’s ...
Photo by April Spreeman.
When Andi picks up fares, she stays away from the university. When Andi talks to her passengers she never talks about art. She doesn’t talk about ...
Photo by Sarchi.
She was a rather peculiar woman, who lived alone. Life lingered in her slipper shuffles across carpeted rooms. Her home was plumped silent, the solitary loomed. Her ...
In the provincial town of Udon Thani, in Northern Thailand, in the middle of a brain-meltingly hot day, my partner and I find a terrace and sit down to ...
A connection between strangers.
