It is not easy to walk along Bethel Avenue. It is a four lane road, sometimes six when there’s a turn lane. There are no sidewalks, just a grassy median that could be sidewalk, if anyone bothered to walk here. I count the walkers that buck tradition. Three black teenagers, boys, crossing the street at …
Welcome to my kitchen table. Here you can find a ukulele — it’s orange — and a giant jar of honey and a 100 peso note and a red accordion file that holds the bills and receipts for things related to my band. There’s a iPhone 4s, a delay pedal, a bottle of iridescent nail …
I walked past the native craft sellers huddled under the arcade on the town square and I walked up and down the slippery sidewalks. In front of one shop, a group of little ones, their hands bursting with braided wrist ties, their little arms holding bundles of toy llamas, crowded around a television set, their …
I’m in Chiapas at ATMEX, a conference for people who promote adventure travel in Mexico. Nearly all my expenses were paid for. The morning of the waterfall excursion, I got up early to take pictures and when I was done, set my camera on the windowsill outside my cabin. When it came time to go, …
When I read about Ferguson, I find myself thinking of a friend who, on first glance, is a strapping black dude. He’s over six feet tall and he’s muscled. In certain geographical regions and inside certain small minds, this is enough to categorize my friend as a threat. He’s big. He’s black. Therefore, in some …