Fast car to the coast, he said. Standing around in the schoolyard, we imagined a big black car, maybe with running boards, like you see in the movies. The boy didn’t say anything more. He just kept picking up chestnuts… Continue Reading
December 2015 I never go to the beach anymore. These days the thin line of sand holding back the endless sea is littered with piles of life jackets, discarded rafts and weeping women. Not that I need to go that… Continue Reading
Through the hazy watercolor of a child’s memory, those months stand out with clarity even into my ninth decade. They start with the bombs dropping in the village streets. Even a child couldn’t mistake the bone-shaking howl, the blinding flashes… Continue Reading