Salt on the Skin
The air near the water always tastes of salt and old iron. It clings to the back of the throat, a gritty reminder that the tide is constantly pulling at the edges of the world. I remember walking until my feet burned, the sand shifting beneath…
Tiny Filipino Fish by Stefanie Laroussinie
Filipino loves this little fish. They use to go fishing all night for them, and come back in the early morning to sale at the market. You can eat them raw just like this, or fried in the pan. Dulong is the common name they use in to sell the…
The Hum of Electric Night
The air after a storm always tastes of ozone and wet pavement, a sharp, metallic tang that clings to the back of the throat. I remember standing on a balcony as a child, feeling the static prickle against my skin like thousands of tiny, invisible…