Essay by Lisa Solod
Fresh off a divorce and my mother's diagnosis with Alzheimer's, I took a part-time job in my local bookstore.
Fresh off a divorce and my mother's diagnosis with Alzheimer's, I took a part-time job in my local bookstore.
This visit to Great Duck Island brings me back, reconnecting me to something I’ve lost.
The land seemed tortured, as if the vegetation had been slashed and burned.
Here in this place of house upon house, on this asphalt path hemmed by parkway and train tracks, a beauty as enchanted as I have ever seen.
The sky was aster blue, and the burnt, bare trees looked like punji sticks shooting up from the crest of the ridge.
In Singapore, sweating has become a lifestyle option.
For over a decade, I have sought Cuba, and, finally, I’m about to land in Havana.
Like Lazarus, I woke to a fresh resolution, the importance of self-preservation.
Snippets of splendor were sprinkled everywhere in Moscow.
The safety of the woods is illusory and the way forward lies across a meadow drenched in the light of the moon.