Your cousin asks you to ‘say something’ at the christening of her daughter and it genuinely is an honour to be asked and really-all-confusing because in your mind your cousin is ...
When I am right here right now, where you can help?! Continue Reading Jeff’s binge
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“If mystics are right, how many lives can we have?” Michelle finds the myriad joys and surprises that the prophecies of psychics can brings. Continue Reading Born Again
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In the first weeks of the pandemic, an immune-compromised person seeks help from some yoga people.
Continue Reading The Pandemic Do-Gooders
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The cluster of dwellings, a motley collection of ancient ruins and pristine modern cottages, beckoned, as I swerved off the road running parallel to the Noce torrent. ...
The first time that I wrote something, I was in Japan, eating an egg that I’d hard- boiled in a Hello Kitty kettle with Engrish faux-proverbs all over the side. ...
“I have one eye trained on the volcanic mountain…” Today’s #EssaySaturday is “The Current Unrest” by Kaitlin Solimine. Continue Reading The Current Unrest
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I briefly look up from my frantic journaling, glancing at the cloud cover out the window. Continue Reading Homesick and Haunted: When House of leaves Changed my Life
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I elongated vowels, chewed on consonants until I read world-building sentences. Continue Reading Bus Reading
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One Sunday morning, there was a knock on my door. There’d been a party the night before, and I hadn’t gone to bed until 4 a.m. I couldn’t imagine who ...
I stood from the cot next to the shared wall. My mom leaned in close to hear you. Another crash. Furniture scraping against the floor. We listened to someone’s heavy ...
Put some music on. Go on, put something on. Sometimes we would last two tracks, sometimes three. The hand that unhitched itself from the steering wheel and put us back ...
The train between Mexico City and Nuevo Laredo was called the Águila Azteca (Aztec Eagle). Within a year of this ride, this passenger train service – along with dozens upon dozens ...
And for me, story is an experience that takes us to a place where we ache to go again, and again, and again, to tell our friends.
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Poetry as a rule harms no one. No thing. Poetry only helps, in its purest form, it intends to heal.
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He indicated a solitary rose drooping against a cracked wall in which curious lizards cocked their heads, and then he swept his arms encompassing everything around us. Continue ...
You see yourself as one of the lucky ones. Continue Reading A Litany
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I was lucky. They only took my handbag. Sure, they had to floor me first, because I dared to clutch my possessions. “Was it at night?” is the question too ...
Death becomes her in this lyrical exploration of Robert Wiles’ famous photograph. Continue Reading Oyster
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Exploring grief and its devestating ripple effect. Continue Reading HOW I KILLED MY SISTER : CONFESSION OF A CHILD OF GOD
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