(text by Miriam Calleja; photograph by Dylan Willoughby) They said I should hide my body but make it more accessible, fit it with locks that only stay on the latch, never lock the doors, and never draw the curtains completely. My mum insisted that I should get...
Photo by Scott Anderson Old stone steps wedged in loam wind down the gorge to forest then river. Here shadows hide before noon and the world-weary congregate— cottonwoods, maples, oaks. Brown switchgrass. A hollowed out log worn smooth by wind, water, the work of...
Photo by T. Obi, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons This story, as with all stories about apartments in Lagos, begins with a girl searching for home on lost shores and fading highways. And the sellers of the city conning naïve buyers in the streets, drying out...
Photos by Claudia Lundahl We land in Alghero and the air feels like a warm bath, tepid and gentle, soothing my senses – a corporeal lullaby that triggers an immediate shift in my mindscape. I’ve been here before, several years ago, and my body seems to remember. I...
Photo by Monica Louzon People hurry out of your way when you’re a meter maid. I should know — I’ve been one in Cape May for eleven years. They’re always running to add quarters to expiring meters or scurrying away, hoping they won’t catch your...
Photo by Fletcher6 via Wikimedia Commons license CC BY-SA 3.0 Zuke the aquamarine dragon had been a train conductor for the T since 1889. Since the dragon couldn’t fly via levitation or wings, the train was the next option. In his younger years, Zuke loved to travel...
