The Body Collective

It’s summer. So we pilgrimage to rocky seaside fishing towns, rented kayaks, beachfront cabanas with bottle service, and hammocks rocking a couple feet from shore. Let me wade in, float on the horizon, hold my raisined fingertips on the living barrier between sea and air until I can’t tell where my body ends and the... Continue Reading →

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Back to Reality

“But, then again, everything is the real world” — Kimmconn Reality must be shorthand for “home”—with its cluttered closets and cable bills and dentist appointments and looking for parking. I came home to jury duty and dead plants and freelance writing assignments about fireworks and sunscreen and the resurgence of once-eradicated diseases. Is this home,... Continue Reading →

Claro Que Sí

Vamos al rincón oscuro, donde yo siempre te quiera. Let's go to the dark corner, where I always love you.  —Federico García Lorca from Bodas de Sangre, 1932 They touch—someone touches—every hour of every day in the parks and metros and markets and doorways of Madrid. They don’t abandon PDAs with age. They dance for... Continue Reading →

Here Comes the Rooster

It’s Facebook-official: We have a crush on Lisbon’s tall, dark, and charming alleyways. The kind our mothers warned us about, without ever having seen them. So we lean in for another late night. Coax our untrained knees and calves up the steep cobblestones. Disappear into the thick crowd of smoke and music, cheap drinks and... Continue Reading →

Forgetting About Me

Another flight, another touchdown followed by applause, another visit to the place I call home. My bathroom mirror isn’t very welcoming, never believes what it can’t see. The refrigerator makes a solid argument for ordering takeout. Our bartender at the usual spot knows what I want, but not where I’ve been. Bet I can walk... Continue Reading →

Italy in April

For my mom, who died 19 years ago today ... The slate gray steps are steep, cracked, and winding. The walkways and streets often indistinguishable from each other until a car appears behind me, simultaneously impatient and in my way. Italians young and old smoke in the alley outside my open window, in the moments... Continue Reading →

Adiós, Mi Amor

Mexico, you were my first. And for that, you will always be a guiding star above the rocky sea of my midnight azul-tinted travel memories. You were my first taste. Of being at home away from home. Of forgetting where home is and what it smells like. Of remembering that home is not only a... Continue Reading →

Poetry for the Eyes

A picture is not worth a thousand words. You see an image. I see an image. We can agree on its color, composition, and content. We can describe it, analyze it, debate its meaning by flexing our vocab muscles, but that's not the point of creating nor observing an image. Take these pictures and let them... Continue Reading →

Hola, Mexico

I could get used to this sunburn. It’s growing on me, masquerading as blush, merging my freckles into a fake tan. I could get used to this beach. Its colorblocks of turquoise and navy like a Rothko painting on antidepressants. I could get used to this me. Wandering for 17 kilometers each day, butchering a... Continue Reading →

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