I’ve been living in exile for forty-two years now, about half of them away from home. If that’s as good a line as I think, it’s because, as Lao Tzu…
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When the patrol car pulled to a stop on the dirt road two fields away and three Police officers piled out, we never imagined they were coming for us. A…
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The summer you were conceived had an apocalyptic feel to it. It started with the heat. In our normally fair city, it sweltered past ninety for days. Your father and…
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WOVEN is an Entropy series and dedicated safe space for essays by persons who engage with #MeToo, sexual assault and harassment, and #DomesticViolence, as well as their intersections with mental…
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Chris set the reusable Viegut Funeral Home bag on the conveyer belt, went through security and waited. He wore the only pair of shorts he owned and one of his…
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Typically, I don’t understand the irritatingly persistent appeal of French food. I have little interest in the incessant barrage of cookbooks, the well-lit photos, the homages and journeys all dedicated…
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What is a question that has stayed with you through time, clung to you like an inhalation? What is a question that pulls you out from syncope? For me, it…
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A third eye for sensing danger has planted itself at the base of my skull. It sends out a dull throb when the possibility of bodily harm is perceived. It’s…
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WOVEN is an Entropy series and dedicated safe space for essays by persons who engage with #MeToo, sexual assault and harassment, and #DomesticViolence, as well as their intersections with mental…
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I had no alternative; I was trapped by language. – Amitav Ghosh, In An Antique Land In early 2009, carrying nine school semesters of French instruction, I landed in…
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Prologue: It’s important to travel after a death, they say, to help process loss from a new vantage point. A month before my wedding in 2016, my mother passed away…
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Plastic containers of dehydrated tofu, dense packets of black bean paste and glass jars of chili oil marked with red simplified characters line the second shelf of the pantry in…
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In Paris I was trying to buy a ticket for the fast train to Angers. Interrupting, the lady at the desk rattled off something, then laughed haughtily. In fractured French,…
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Living in Thessaloniki, Greece, in the shadow of Mount Olympus, it feels only natural to claim being shot by Eros’s arrow. [Cupid only works in Italy and was unavailable –…
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