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...
Photo: agsaz / Shutterstock.com After my visit to the Royal Alcazar, I stopped at a café and sat outside, relishing the almost-warmth in that last day of December, sipping the thick hot chocolate and dipping fat fingers of churros into it, telling myself it was my...
It’s ten minutes to 7 and mordant sunlight is leaking through the gaps in the broken curtains. I can feel the gold light on my face and understand the meaning of the term ‘sun-drenched.’ I keep my eyes closed, letting my eyelids burn under the weight of the fulgent...
The same guy who gave Ron Swanson a snifter at Lagavulin was the same guy who taught me how to pull whiskey from a barrel, a skill I’ve never used since. In 2016, he was smaller than on TV, only to my shoulder, and I wondered how we shrank over time and in real life,...
“The Mutton Lane Inn entrance” by cotitoo is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0 I’m just after kissing you goodbye on Patrick Street and maybe it’s the lingering press of your lips on mine, or the pint rejuvenating the leftover buzz of last night, or the Amber...
On a marble bench in Villa Borghese, Rome glowing in its June glory, the boy tells the girl this is not the right time, his school year abroad is only about to start. She knows, of course, but it’s only now she’s found the courage. Now, after 9 months of...
