It’s booked! My September girls’ getaway is booked and I am anxiously awaiting the day we arrive to our little rented apartment in Athens until reality calls us back. Planning this trip has also made me look back through my other travel experiences and made me realize that this is what I know, this is… Continue reading Traveling young and unstoppable
mornings awake i found myself writing letters in the air, under my breath telling my secrets to the ghosts from last year.waiting for sunlight i’d pass the missing hours,pointing to the ceiling and with my fingerdrawing skylines and inescapable towers. this time last year I was sleeping in Kusadasi,and the year before that it was Venice.Back… Continue reading On summer and the waking hours
Before the sun rises the loneliness eats me, in a nostalgic, delicious kind of way. I assume it was the jet lag in Sri Lanka that will forever resonate with me, that pre-dawn quiet of knowing absolutely nothing about where you are, what you will do, who you even are.I remember waking up that first… Continue reading On not sleeping
I lose all motivation to better myself,because i have turned away from the bombs and sieges on the news.i live in comparison, a contrast of my own experiences. traipsing casually through the poverty and diligence of indiabuys me a mere 18 months of gratitude, of real hard work,of trying for myself in a way i… Continue reading on shame
I fear for my memories of the indian ocean, drying and curling at the edges like the yellowed pages of my favorite book. i fear the helpless sag of the skin around my smile,and, with something to lose, i lie awake marinading in terrorover mental atrocities likewhat to do to accept your mother’s mortality,how to… Continue reading on aging
even a drop in a bucket still makes ripples.
If I could have any color I found to rouge my cheekbones with, I’d streak the peachy rose of Calcutta’s twilight smog across my apples, In place of the exhaust and dust catching to the salty dewborne of an India afternoon sun.The clouds tinted here at sundownare more than a fat little cherub-pink;they glow with… Continue reading On smog
Village huts plastered in mobile adsrainclinging to the rest of the waterthat still hangs in the air,dropping slow.Men in dhottis climbing paddieslike the electrical towers that snake up the hills,entangledin the lush green of morning’s showers.If the stone is flat enough you will find plastered billsillegible andghostly of purpose.Near the bus stop (red clay and… Continue reading The Drive Into Goa: