And they call us poor, Father, as if it were a curse.
I enjoy writing letters, almost as much as I enjoy receiving them.
A tourist is nothing more than an invited guest into someone’s homeland.
She stood unaccompanied in the room of hushed conversations and snide laughter.
My entry for this week’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday, hosted by Linda G. Hill.
Oliver’s view of women was shaped early in life…
Bianca was 23. She didn’t have wings.
Did I just see the tip of his tongue protrude from its enamel cage…