Little Pillows of Sweat (Houston)

I like the heat. The way it clamps around your face and the insides of your knees like a magician’s black velveted gloved hand on the saw he uses to cut the woman in half. It’s dense like the last layer of birthday cake, slicked down, glistening with poisonous icing. Confectioner’s sugar crystals bound up into a paste so smooth the cake can’t breath. It … Continue reading Little Pillows of Sweat (Houston)

Un Signe d’Espoir (Paris to Prague by bus)

We’re passing the battlefields of Verdun under darkening skies and lowering night. As the light fades on the gray hills and fields, my heart lowers. Pathetic fallacy and history are outdoing me again! Is this where they fought? In now silent, peaceful, empty fields? By green trees and silver streams winding down valley? Is this where they breathed their last breath? Will the creases of … Continue reading Un Signe d’Espoir (Paris to Prague by bus)

Small glimpses from a quickly passing window seat (Florence – Lausanne by train.)

Newspaper open, he glances up to catch a glimpse of the passing train, sitting in the vibrant green lawn of the pocket-park in this little mountain hamlet. A fresh blue shirt and pair of red suspenders gently frame his rotund face and belly. An attentive terrier follows his gaze, perched a few meters from the dark green park bench. Behind him the mountains interlace in beautiful cardboard … Continue reading Small glimpses from a quickly passing window seat (Florence – Lausanne by train.)

Snapshot: Barcelona

It took a while to grow on me. The quiet aquamarine of warm waters and coarse gold sand sifts distant memories of Los Angeles through my fingertips. The soft pastel colors of the apartments are sun-washed to chalky whites. Windows gracefully draped with lacy iron balconies, hanging plants, and half-naked men smoking cigarettes. The graceful curves in the arch of their backs flow into the … Continue reading Snapshot: Barcelona

Greens (L’Isle sur la Sorgue)

This is the best almond croissant I’ve ever tasted. It’s falling apart in my hands, the real almond paste with specks of nutty brown ground skins still showing, buttery copper specks in crumbling sweet morsels. To top it all off, the paysage [landscape] may be even more delicious. I’m sitting by the lovely canal of the Sorgue, rustling water and humming cicadas play my gentle soundtrack. Everything in … Continue reading Greens (L’Isle sur la Sorgue)

Rescue

“La gare” [train station] is quickly becoming my new favorite word. Something about the push and pull, the rush to the platform followed by the slow drawn out wait for the train as anticipation licks our lips. The promise of travel, the glimpse of new worlds, new pictures, new places far beyond the high vaulted, metal-laced glass ceiling, somewhere out beyond the silent sentinel of the … Continue reading Rescue

6:30

It’s 6:30 AM at La Défense and the sun rises crisply over the rails only to be kissed into rose tinted nuages [clouds] by morning mist. Most of Paris still sleeps but the working man goes home. At the subterranean quai some sapeur-pompiers [firemen], neat white bands around the ankles of their baggy navy pantaloons, walk onto waiting trains. Night shift over, the slight slouch … Continue reading 6:30