Bar Flies

We were monkey kings; street dogs running through familiar streets at full tilt, howling and bounding from one scent to the next.

Going Away to Get Lost

I’ll never live abroad, he said. Twenty-two years old and passing through baggage checks at Heathrow as quickly as I’d accepted the job. The chess pieces wrapped in boxer shorts suddenly feel ridiculous. One half space-saving-piece-protecting-masterstroke, one half inconvenient-lunatic-blunder. I am on my way to Chongqing, China. The city’s name almost sounds racist. Teaching inContinue reading “Going Away to Get Lost”

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