Summer Postcards 2016
When I relocated to this palm tree-speckled paradise in June to intern at a television network, I made a distinctly modern, ultimately frugal decision: to commute via ride-sharing apps rather than renting a car.
A Window to the Past
As I admired how the flecks of light from the windows cast a pale blue glow on the limestone walls, I remembered that understanding history is more than simply touring a set of grand monuments and museums carefully cultivated for public consumption this summer.
Your conscious mind evaporates, and you find yourself in a silence of heat and hoofbeats where you have six legs, four lungs, two hearts, and two intricately fused awarenesses.
View from the Fire Escape
It is frightening how easy it was to be convinced of the necessity, the magic, of this place.
I’m not sure why the tipping point required so many horrific attacks and deaths. Living with such little consciousness of danger has been an incredible luxury, and in this retrospect, everything looks surreal.
My friends were booking their international flights and prepping for funding interviews. Fellow freshmen were getting ready to walk the halls of Twitter, Microsoft, and Google. Everyone around me was doing something, and I was going home.
Don’t Stop Believeland
Believeland is, at once, a nickname, an imperative verb, and a prayer: That someday, despite every crushing disappointment, we’d get that championship, a hope more Messianic than practical.
I was going to write about human misconceptions for this postcard, the self-congratulating and delusional nature of our views about so many things. I was going to write about the inevitable physical and psychological decay of Home. I couldn’t bring myself to send those drafts.
From Manila, With Love
Remember the tender moments, and create more with everyone you encounter. For every hateful act, there will be a thousand good ones as long as we continue sending love.
Man on the Walk
I found it uncomfortable to reflect on how much time it would take this sand in the making to become actual sand.
“Now I Am an Axolotl”
The axolotl forces me to press my nose to the tenuous glass of human consciousness.
Books, Beer, and Conquest
The story I wrote a couple of months ago set in the Salvadoran San Miguel takes on a new meaning. I’d tried tackling colonialism in 4,521 words then, but the blue label on the glass bottle I hold in my hand reveals just how momentous conquest is.