Paradise in Purgatory
The van felt swelteringly hot as we traveled. I tried putting my head against the glass, hoping for a brief respite, but found it burning hot as well. I pulled my head away and stared out at the red dust, barrel cacti, and saguaro that stretched into the distance. Two...
More Than Mango Juice
I sit writing in the tube somewhere in the depths of London Underground. It’s not until I put my pen and black notebook down—black ink stained on my pinky finger—that I really look at the people sitting around me. It is after nine at night, so the normal working crowd...From Seat 17C
I sit across the aisle from another writer on my 747 flight, an older woman writing in large letters. Her scrawl resembles my grandmother’s: messy but elegant, beginning large and then fading into smaller letters. She holds pages and pages of lined paper, off-white...
