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...
A place we fell in love with and made our home, a place where crabs crawled up to the porch as we sat in bamboo chairs, sipping our morning chai, inhaling the fragrance of frangipani, listening to the bulbul song we had come to expect, the first rays shining into our...
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...
On Saturday morning there was a man on the Balboa Island promenade painting a copy of The Raft of the Medusa. He stood on the sand on the other side of the sea-wall. Aaron and I stopped our walk to watch him. Aaron told him it was a cool painting and that he had just...
