There is no doubt that work that reflects on my experience moving about the world ties into the idea of independent travel. I found a few theories and contradictions I plan on following up on next week.
Read MoreThis serves as a notion that encompasses the state of being between nations, a blurring of the borders of nation-states by the movement of people throughout the world.
Read MoreI hesitated to explore the concept of statelessness in the first place because I was unsure how to address the privilege inherent in my brand of it, and felt that it needed to be addressed.
Read MorePt. 1: Pick any term vaguely relevant to your work, and google it. See where it goes.
Read MoreMoving rapidly from minimal prose to diary I’ve no rhythm and can’t dance, I stand to the side of the milonga while they tango under the glow of antiquity.
Read MoreShe comes in waves, in sand and stubborn, silty sweat.
Read MoreVoices rise and fall in the centre of the square stop, break see your breath pause in the crosshairs of the call to prayer.
Read MoreI focus on the itch until it goes away or gets worse.
Thumbnail: Kate Doyle. Bad Nora. 2012.
Read MoreMy blood runs in the forest in the suburbs on the farm. It ties me to truth stabs holes in my echo chamber but has started to form metallic droplets.
Read MoreWine is free and your head begins to spin even though you should be working but let’s write and drink let’s turn the letters red to match our teeth.
Read More“This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or the tranquilizing drug of gradualism.”
Read MoreThe men you fall for in Florence aren't yours; you pay for the privilege. Pay to see them, let them lead you through the streets to their thrones.
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I am re-posting this piece following the death of John Berger, eternally grateful for everything this man taught me about communicating ideas, about art, and about myself.
Read MoreClimb the stairs find the lights keep walking it’s just the night and you’re always up for a wander.
Read MoreSee space between storm heads and sea as you leave, watch languid seasons fade into worlds of shoulders clothed in scarves and hat covered hair.
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