Term: memoir
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I had once coordinated counterterrorism operations in a place where bombs went off every other week. Today, I could not transport groceries. I’d spent twenty minutes...
Beneath a sky heavy with the promise of winter, Kars had arrived, not merely as a destination, but as a revelation. Angelic flakes danced beyond...
“I have a surprise,” Michael announced. “Guess where we’re going for our anniversary?”
The night is black. I can’t read your features, but I know you’re scowling. We’ve been held captive behind your blockade for the past six...
Half my life ago, in September 1995, I spent a long weekend on Ulleung Island, a remote island of about 12,000 people in South Korea,...
You don’t know who I am, but I know who you are. We share something—last week, my Peaks of the Balkans guide was your mountain...
They can seem like messages from the great beyond. From God, the universe, source, or what have you. Simultaneously, they can seem to bubble up...
At the entrance to Zambujal, a pair of dogs were waiting.
As problematic as it is to try to communicate the magnificence of a natural phenomenon through an allusion to a fictitious one, this is all...
The weekend before I turned eighteen, you convinced me to go on a crime spree. Taking advantage of this last chance to be charged as...
The church was just across the street, and the sound of its bells announcing the hour drew me across the long bedroom floor to the...
Yesterday morning, when I was sitting on the futon in my attic study, I looked across the room and saw a small star of sunlight...
The bus station in Rishikesh smells of petrol and dust, of cardamom chai poured from tin kettles. A low sun pools against the cracked asphalt...
It’s almost Valentine’s Day, sales apex for pralines, season of intact and broken hearts, when, all at once, I’m seized by an extravagance of anger.
We were cruising on the boat from our basecamp to the island of sun, sand, and wooden houses. It was 30 minutes of ocean breeze...
It’s interesting how certain places don’t just stay in memory. They rise—slow and strange—from the deep, surfacing during times of struggle, when something in us...
Living in the city (apocryphal city), you come to feel the weariness of the spirit, which should, perhaps, arrive only much later in life, not...