I live in a city of water – on shipping containers
where men sit on duka-fronts sipping ganja tea
& amphibious trucks sail downstream
tailgates...
The German verb erinnern was always one of the hardest for me to master. First there were its multiple syllables, without a hint as to...
As an artist-writer adapting Paul Klee’s approach of ‘taking a line for a walk’, I like to lose myself in a landscape. Foot becomes pen;...
A silver acorn attached to a pocket watch, Pict skeletons under the floorboards, an ornate façade covering a concrete bunker, the tweeting from inner walls...
There was a heaviness in Tbilisi, that of a national past weighing on the present in an unresolved way. Conflicted memories of Georgia’s history –...
What was once the sulfuric taste of mortar blasts or the iron tint of blood has become the taste of red peppers. Cigarette smoke has...
Here, at the edge of day, the land articulates a wild music to assure itself that it has stayed, despite night’s perpetual wash, the thieving...
It has just gone 11am and I am standing in the pre-dawn light at a fault-line between worlds. Here, on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge the continental...
We operate inside a structure much bigger than us, so very old and grand, we deem ourselves minuscule, irrelevant, crushed under the weight of history....