It doesn’t take a genius to see how cooking and making love are related. It does, however, take a genius to cook the way one makes love, or vice versa. The key ingredient is time. Ragù napoletano, for example, or… Continue Reading
It is that time of the day when the children emerge from their stifling primary school classrooms into the playground. Laughing, happy words tumble from their mouths. As always, Min is waiting by the window. She’s grown tall enough to… Continue Reading
Sometimes the toads would just sit out on the lawn, a choreographed semi-circle of horror, reverberating their low growly groan around our blonde weatherboard house in a way that tickled my spine. If I had enough courage I’d shine our… Continue Reading
Rufus stops at the clearing in the woods every day hoping Lola will come down again, just like that one miraculous morning when she suddenly appeared among the towering bamboo stalks and he fell in love for the very first… Continue Reading
Isaac strikes the axe head into the stump we’re using for the beheadings. The bit stays wedged into the hardwood. He holds the wiggling carcass. It’s weird how chickens do that after they’re dead. I’m still plucking the bird he… Continue Reading
A teenage girl holding a baby opened the splintered door and nodded. I followed her upstairs where her man was on the couch watching TV. “What,” he said, not looking. “I’d like to buy an ounce,” I stammered. “Where you… Continue Reading
Jenny had swallowed time and space. A lot of it. And now she was feeling…what? Bloated? Yes. Reflux? Maybe. Heartburn? Definitely. “Have some time. Have some space.” Mark, her boss, had instructed on that initial dreadful day—without her husband, with… Continue Reading
I pick up a pink, glittery, ceramic bowl, and am reminded of my ex-boyfriend’s hatred of all things sparkling and feminine. If we were still together, purchasing this bowl would have been an act of rebellion. I assumed I would… Continue Reading
Molly woke in a damp dress, soaked in early morning dew drops and late-night tears. The sun threatened to break the horizon as the nighttime sky retreated. The patterns in the stars gradually faded and Molly stood up. She turned… Continue Reading
The audience applauded wildly, and “Tosca” swooped low in her final curtsy. Down came the curtain. Still channeling Puccini’s ecstatic paean to art, Rayna’s round, shining face beamed at the other singers as everyone hustled to their designated dressing rooms.… Continue Reading