Photo by Mk2010, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons Father and I are on the upper deck of the Star Ferry, crossing Victoria Harbor, approaching the cinderblock skyline of Hong Kong Island. We’re coated in sweat from the humidity. I understand why Mother decided to...
Photo by ParentingPatch, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons A woman sits down beside you in Gallery 114. “Do you know,” she says, “these were installed just as my mother was dying. “As she got sick, got worse, got that terrible treatment.” You look at her and...
I didn’t expect three years and 3,000 miles to evaporate in an instant. I didn’t expect the air to feel like teeth through blueberries in summer’s first pie or the smell of rain on an afternoon that waffles between should we go to Bathtub Gin and I wish you could...
Photo by Karin Hedetniemi The front door to my heart is a windswept coastline park, wild around the edges. A rocky shore strewn with slippery kelp, boulders, piles of driftwood. Framed by backward leaning trees. Gusts so fierce at times, you can barely stand upright....
Molten candy peach nectar streams over lips salty- licked, pistachios shucked on steep dunes, stoic veined bookends, marble slipping welcome into cotton gloves worn by the waves. The sea open tide all the way to Africa. My spaces draw onto creased linen, fried rigid...
