America in Three Acts: Act III

Puerto Rico: The Other America Puerto Rico and I have a short, sad history I won’t get into. This weekend is different. With the past so far behind me I can’t even make out its shape with my mind’s squinting, focused eye. This weekend is as full as my heart. Of tropical mountain air, rocky... Continue Reading →

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America in Three Acts: Act II

Hashtag BFF We hadn’t been to Boston together in over 20 years.   Back then, you had moved from our South Florida neighborhood to a Boston suburb. And got popular. Started saying wicked. We spent that summer in Newbury Comics, on your deck with Sun In highlighting our ponytails orange, worshiping Eddie Vedder and Chris... Continue Reading →

America in Three Acts: Act I

I Heart NYC Bright and early, we land in NYC. The birthplace of my parents and grandparents. Well, Brooklyn. But this trip isn’t about which 5-story walkup on which block in which neighborhood of which borough my dad still reminisces about. This is our 48-hour blitz. A single night in an Airbnb studio down the street... Continue Reading →

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 →

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 →

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