Caught in the rain on Friday, my white skirts billowing, I hugged Ulysses closely to my chest, small goosebumps rising on my bare arms. Vine-like tendrils coiled around my neck as raindrops weighted down my hair and I took shelter in the entry way of Our Lady of the Sacred Heart church. Last evening, on the bus 393, I relinquished my seat to an ( Read more... )

The last few days have been an exercise in metaphorical weeding. I've been sorting through my possessions in preparation to moving. I think this one of those snapshot moments because so much of what I have dug up have been remnants of childhood and that gap after childhood when personas are assumed and discarded almost imperceptibly, like veils of ( Read more... )