It wasn’t a bleeding heart that sent me overseas for those years.
Category Archives: Honduras
As her name suggested, Libertad would be freedom for me.
There, church bells ringing as the sun sets over Grenoble.
I knew that each page contained not only a tune, but also a message about who we were and who we ought to be—often pious and self-assured.
Some say she kills the men; in Honduras, she usually makes them go crazy.
The turn of this year feels too fragile for plans.
Like Agnes, I decided this unicorn would be mine.
Everyone who gets on is headed their own way—school, work, church, shopping, home—but for a brief moment, the barreling bus brings us all together.
A few months ago, I found myself at a weekend-long turtle monitoring session on Honduras’ southern coast.
Another holiday, another rustling through my luggage of words to find poignant answers for the question.