In Alaska

She had coppery hair; this isn’t a metaphor. It was shiny, metallic, like fine copper wire. And it was styled, her bangs sprayed stiff and pin curls by her ears. Her eyebrows were painted on her wide open face. It was impossible to guess her age, she could have been forty, she could have been …


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On Memory, Music, and Travel

Hearing the sound of that music and his laughter about the shade and then later, seeing those pictures of Mali, his home country, made me feel the place somewhere else than just my eyes: it was in my feet, Mali got into my head through my ears and my skin for that short time and …


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