Recent Articles
It was my first day of a month in Spain. There I was, sitting at the Carmel Bunkers in Barcelona: a viewing point where the…
It’s a well-worn archetype, that of the foreigner striding through busy city streets with a smartphone or an expensive-looking camera in hand, snapping a new…
Ah, Venice – La Serenissma. La Dominante. The City of Bridges, of Masks, and Canals. The Grande Dame of the Adriatic. But has La Serenisima…
“The game is called Presidents,” one of the French girls is saying, gesturing excitedly the way people explaining card games do, her words coming to…
“You can’t take this,” Mom said while she pulled my dear, favourite yellow t-shirt from the suitcase. “Why not?” I pouted. “Because it has Hebrew…
I am absolutely besotted with him. We went for walks together and he pointed out all the hydrangeas on the hillside. And I knew that…
I put a drop of soap into my menstrual cup and use my hands to spread the soap around the silicon. There is something grotesque…
Buenaventura Bravo’s main job during the Spanish Civil War was getting his goats out of the village and into the mountains. This was no top-secret…
