Photo by Xauxa (Håkan Svensson), CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons At ten years of age, I stopped being innocent. The experience was not sexual in nature, but something darker. Funny enough, children are natural in the world of the invisible, but if the door of the...
There’s a photo I love to shareI’m flying over the Hudsonin a tiny planesporting giant headphonesa blonde side braidJohn Lennon shadesa toothless grin. Out of framemy pilot friend observeswhat he perceives as peace. Later that dayafter we landin a Jersey fieldorder...
I like to tell peopleI kissed a wall in Ibizakayaked the Mediterraneangot stung by a jellyfishgot super tanate paellavisited beacheswhere gorgeous womensunbathed toplessseemingly without fear. I like to tell themI wore tiny shortsand belly shirtsand bikinisthe whole...
Photo: EQRoy / Shutterstock.com The Woman was exiting the Springs Marketplace with no souvenirs—because she had already gotten stickers and a postcard of yellow aspens in downtown Colorado Springs—when she locked eyes on this couple embracing for their cliché goodbye...
What always shocked the Moby Dickheads was a whaleboat’s flimsiness, how squat the gunnels, how thin the planks separating whalers from depthless ocean and the 65-ton sperm whale they’d stabbed. All yesterday I’d been stuck working the whaleboat exhibit. That meant...
Photo by Anna Sui The Moonbean café, unyielding and un-air-conditioned sits right at the border of Kensington Market in Toronto, Canada. For as long as I remember, which isn’t too long in the grand schemes of things when the scheme is the scale of Toronto, it’s been...
