Memories, People, Quirky, Reflection

Trumpet & Accordion

‘The Cave’ has joined the constellation of favorite jamming places tracing back to my visits to Bogue Street bridge, freshman and sophomore years of college. I felt drawn, in an almost mystic way, to that alcove under the bridge crossing the Red Cedar River. By chance, a young artist named Maria found me and took… Continue reading Trumpet & Accordion

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Memories, Narrative, Reflection, Uncategorized

The Reluctant Fictionalist (& The Friend on the Pier)

I wondered when I would write this. I am writing to say I am writing again, though I was afraid to say so in so many words because it means I cannot retreat any more. Growing-up, I day-dreamed about being an author but I never sat down with a notebook and started sketching most of… Continue reading The Reluctant Fictionalist (& The Friend on the Pier)

Tray of Arabic coffee *drool*
People, Quirky, Reflection

Between Tea & Coffee

Beverages matter. My co-workers once called me down to the foyer and offered me tea brewed with maleesa (an herb). I added sugar from a small metal bowl, using a little spoon, to my tiny glass cup with no handle. Just then, Saliba came from his office. I immediately rose and went to the kitchen,… Continue reading Between Tea & Coffee

Analysis, Memories, Reflection

“Things Ain’t What They Used To Be”

...the CD player sucked the newly purchased album into its slot. That was the perfect moment to push the pedal completely to the floor, just as I cranked my wheel into a tight left turn. In a wave of synesthesia, the g-forces splashed me with the first exquisitely loud burst of rock music. It erupted… Continue reading “Things Ain’t What They Used To Be”

Memories, Narrative

Anchor, Pipe, and Needle: Bethlehem Ink

I remember the day I lost it. My mother would have disapproved. We squished together onto the back of a motorcycle and rode through the Philippine jungle to a series of small waterfalls. There, all the knots in my torso came undone in the fast, cool water. I relaxed and swam. Dante* was sitting in… Continue reading Anchor, Pipe, and Needle: Bethlehem Ink