Fragments of Wakefulness II

Fragments of Wakefulness II

You’re right, absolutely right, this is said about so many things, but if you really, and I mean really, think about it, then this, this must be humankind’s very first technology. That’s what I was thinking. I cupped my hands underneath the bathroom...
Fragments of Wakefulness II

Fragments of Wakefulness I

20 days. It had already been twenty days. Twenty days in Medellín. Twenty days surrounded by the fungus-covered lime green walls of my private room at the back of the Black Sheep hostel. Twenty days of backpackers shuffling in, shuffling out, flirting,...

On Beauty (and Irony)

Since my dear friend, Cindylu, just published a post titled “On Beauty”, I figure I might as well dig through my unpublished drafts and publish one with nearly the same title. I wrote this about a year and a half ago over a steaming glass of chai in Delhi,...

Hoy, mañana, y lo que viene

La primera vez que conocí Georgia en Londres, ella me explicó su estilo de poppletrotting (su apellido es Popplewell y ‘trot’ en inglés es trotar). Poppletrotting es una forma de viajar. Sin estrés, sin discusiones, con itinerarios flexibles, pero sin...

Jamaica

It was the half hour sliver of clock that is neither day nor darkness. But nobody realized. Not the prostitutes nor the cocktail waitresses nor my taxi driver, cheerfully escorting one more stranger back to the airport, back to where he came from. “Where do you...