By place

Category Archives: France

Quitter

It was midnight again, France time, when I sat down for the turkey and mashed potatoes my family had waited to make.

A Pindaric Ode for the Paris Gay Games

So, in order to commemorate these tenth Gay Games, I have decided to pen my very own over-the-top, saccharinely sincere Pindaric ode. Let’s hope it’s not, well, terrible.

Four Meals with Strangers

Danke, Louise.  Obrigada, João. Merci, Jess. Gracias, Vera.

Meal With Five Strangers

I am the fifth stranger here, and perhaps the strangest of them all. I am passing through this place. This will be my only night in the city, and then I will be gone.

Last Days

In your last days in this little town, you will start to see things as you saw them in the first days.

Bloom and Grow

I think when we look down on children it’s because we have momentarily, or perhaps chronically, forgotten that little kid inside earnestly whispering, “Don’t forget me. I’m still here.”

The Church at Rocamadour

The Church at Rocamadour

by | Feb 10, 2018

She is
Smoke-tinted,
Wood and silver,
Vessel of the divine
And of acceptance

This Was the Year of Living

This Was the Year of Living

This was the year of living with my parents, with my best friends, with a stranger. This was the year of mint tea and French TV shows, of cooking for my friends and of touching the North Sea.

Crying on Public Transit

Crying on Public Transit

Eventually you have to look these fears in the face, and you have to sit with the things, both true and false, that you believe about yourself.

Autumnal

Autumnal

I learned to love the fall, to really love it, at the foothills of the French Alps, in October, two months after my friend drowned in Lake Michigan.