For a year I was obsessed with Hansel and Gretel. I tracked down the children’s book versions, I read the translated ‘original’ Grimm version and did a fairly deep dive on the internet. What I didn’t do was read Bruno…
View writingWe are nothing without our stories. And our old stories are as vital to our identity - if not more so - than any story we come up with in the present moment. I've kept journals - handwritten ,typed and…
View writing"Not again!" She thought to herself as she felt tears starting to form and her cheeks starting to blush. She'd been working in the lab for hours. The sun had gone down long ago, and she hadn't eaten a meal…
View writingI had just gotten to my bus stop after my class was released, and I could already feel the perspiration welling on my skin, succumbing to the heat. I've never liked the heat, and anything over 72°F is bad news.…
View writingWhere skin could lie on skin: the secret love affair . Honored through time and poetry. As long as the human animal has been in existence, no matter what form it took, from its earliest, most primitive cell structure to…
View writingI saw something sweet today on my morning walk down by the estuary. Two middle-aged women, dressed similarly, wearing sun hats, were walking the lovely path at a good pace, chattering to one another in Chinese. What I found so…
View writingIn the mid-1980's, i had the wondrous adventure of being part of a show that went from...well...it had quite a journey: QUILTERS. I first encountered it by being cast in the Pittsburgh Public Theatre production , when director Barbara Damashek…
View writingThey met down at the bottom of the industrial levels, where Peony could see the molton steel poured into form, and thousands of robotic arm shapped and them into rods and panels, which were assembled into frames and fenders and…
View writingIt was just an ordinary walk, one I take when I don't have time for something more adventurous. The white pelicans are back for summer – their white bulbous bodies accented by long orange beaks and black eyes. It's unusual…
View writing“Can you keep a secret?” he asked. “Probably, not.” she answered. Not because she couldn’t, she could but she didn’t want to. “Oh, I think you can.” He said. “I don’t want to.” She said. “Why?” he said. “Why assume…
View writingOn one of the hottest days of summer so far, the room Albie entered was muggy and fetid, with a mixture of the faint smell of cut oranges left exposed too long to the tempered elements on counter near the…
View writingIt's a grand party, up on the penthouse floor, and the walls are shaking from all the feet pounding and music playing and the voices ringing out into the confines of the curtained-off room. Beds everywhere. The secret of
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