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Welcome to My World
Nothing is as it seems except the wind rustling the leaves in the trees.
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People of Tango: Amelia
Listen to the audio version here: When she was younger, Amelia was chosen to be the Beauty Queen of her local shooting club in Baradero, Argentina. In the 1990s, with her children out of the house, she and her husband moved to Buenos Aires, where there was more to do. “I was always brimming with…
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God is a Stranger
I could have ambled slowly over — a way of hedging my bets — but I knew instinctively that everyone had a role to play in this little drama. Just then mine was to come up short, stand forlorn in their swirling backwash and let my pack fall to the ground in desperation. I played…
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Where the Memories Go
He heard their voices on the far shore. He couldn’t make out the words exactly; instead the sounds came as imperfect, jumbled packets of energy over the water: the soft patter of distant conversation, an excited shriek that echoed, a gaggle of voices around a bonfire, celebrating. He stood still listening to those voices, wanting…
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The Lofty and the Low
My ancestors were a jumbled mix: there were doctors, an immigrant who became an industrialist, a journalist who migrated from the East Coast to California on bicycle, hard-working, long-suffering Irish stock that toiled in Nebraska and Kansas. There are high achievers, ne’er-do-wells and some outsiders like myself who took a more meandering path.
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Sue’s Motel
With his beard and his yellowing teeth and his paunch always sticking out from under his shirt Harry’s been letting go for a long time but that night I loved him more than ever for going along and trying to make me happy even if we all know it won’t make a bit of difference.
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The Word
Writing is rather the act of listening carefully. If you listen well enough, the words present themselves like a mist rising from the forest floor. They do not need your assistance; they need your silence. If you don’t scare them off, they come of their own accord like the little creatures in the forest that…