Photo by Mmartin1460 – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0 By the quiet waters of the suburban town of badagry/ there is somewhere called: the point of no return/ slaves that were carted away on wooden vessels beyond that point would never return home again/ I stand at the...
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...
The sun sets over an endless sea, flashing a mysterious green, while a purple squall stomps on the horizon. I stand in the middle of a sandy island the size of a graveyard, and just as flat. This is exactly what I want after the last ten months—time alone on a...
Something about a competitive man, or woman, let’s just call it a person because there are all sorts of them these days and there always have been, they’ve just been hidden more or less, but anyway, something about this kind of person makes you feel pressed for time,...
“Cribstone bridge to Bailey Island” by WorldIslandInfo.com is licensed under CC BY 2.0 Rose awoke that morning in midcoast Maine to a fog that covered the streets and blanketed the homes: a fog so thick that breathing felt closer to swimming or drowning in...
