Aristotle at afternoon tea

‘It happened in April, and took place on a day

So mild you’d say love purposely made it that way.’

- Victor Hugo, The Party at Therese’s

Photo by Rafael Kellermann Streit on Unsplash

A walking, hand-holding, kissing cliché. That is what we were; just two more lo...

‘In the fresh forest depths, no sound…
I am going
Home.’

- Anna Akhmatova, My Heart

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

‘It was wintertime; the air was cold, the wind sharp, but indoors all was snug and well.’

Indoors was in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. On th...

I once knew a girl who lived in a peach house at number 17, Swann Street. It was not a physical place. It was in her head, but it was still very real. Some would call it mental illness. More specifically, anorexia. Whatever its name, more girls go there than you think,...

The nurses wheeled someone into the room at eleven thirteen p.m. Late. Perhaps not by the standards of the outside world, but disastrously so in here.

Photo by Julian Hanslmaier on Unsplash

The antepartum floor was no place of rest to begin with, with the const...

Cocktail hour at an art déco boutique hotel. Charleston. December. It does not snow in Charleston; it pours on the tall French windowpanes.

Photo by Caglar Araz on Unsplash

Inside, a log fire roars, orange glowing onto the turquoise blue walls and the art; the...

I had my first dance, my feet on his toes, my body held up by the lift of his hands under my shoulders. Charcoal suit. Crisp white shirt and gold cufflinks.

Photo by Radek Skrzypczak on Unsplash

Neck craned up as he twirled us around and around, my dress follow...

This story does not end with: ‘They lived happily ever after.’

It ends with:

‘They live separately, now. Their happinesses are different.’

Photo by Barrie Johnson on Unsplash​ 

It does begin with: ‘They lived happily,’ as all good, true love stories should....

I sat across from you on the first day of school. You sent a note that said something like:

'Do you want to be friends?''

We became friends.

We then shared stories and secrets on the bench under the magnolia tree, in our plaid uniforms, with our lunch boxes and Harry Pott...

When he was five he rode his bicycle without stabilizers for the first time. He remembers the moment; where he was, the trees, sun beams streaming through them over his head. Mostly he remembers the feeling; an elated, fresh, gush of air. And the thought: I can go fast...

‘The guest shall be welcomed with bread, salt and heart,’

says the Kanun of Lekë Dukagjini, a set of traditional Albanian laws codified in the Fifteenth Century. A custom that started way before then though and is still carried out today, not just in Albania, but in Mo...