September 30, 2017
The Rhythm of the Path
I met a man named Elias in a park in Lisbon who walked the same perimeter every morning at six. He told...
Category Archive
Reflections
September 30, 2017
The Grit of the Plains
The smell of dry, sun-baked earth always brings me back to the feeling of coarse wool against my neck. It is a...
September 30, 2017
The Kneading of Time
I still possess a wooden rolling pin that belonged to my grandmother, its surface smoothed by decades of flour and the insistent...
