Category Archives: Honduras
by Katerina Parsons | Aug 1, 2018
When I first moved to Honduras three years ago, I ate everything my host family ate: beans, eggs, cream, tortillas. Heavy, simple plates—bland, but satisfying. But then suddenly one day, months in, I just couldn’t do it anymore.
by Katerina Parsons | May 1, 2018
I have a sinking suspicion that most issues work this way—they deeper we go, the more tangled we find ourselves, looking in vain for an exit.
by Katerina Parsons | Mar 1, 2018
What if we heard all accents this way—not as a sign that English is not one’s first language, but as a sign that another language is?
by Katerina Parsons | Dec 1, 2017
We keep getting messages, some true, some false. It’s too hard to make sense of a moment when you’re in it.
by Katerina Parsons | Oct 1, 2017
It’s not that I don’t have a sense of humor—with close friends and family I joke, laugh, and make others laugh. But there’s an unshakeable earnestness to it.
by Katerina Parsons | Aug 1, 2017
I want to be better about recognizing their cousin—micro-advantages, micro-privileges that lead to a world that bends in my direction, that is softer with me, gentler.
by Katerina Parsons | Jul 1, 2017
I set a few rules—my “day” on the bus would last eight hours, but would include walking to, from, and between buses.
by Katerina Parsons | Jun 1, 2017
There is increasing political talk in the United States about deporting the migrants who are apprehended at our border or inside of it. There is very little talk about what happens next.
by Katerina Parsons | May 1, 2017
“I’ve always heard birdsong,” my father told me in the car once. “But now I listen.”
by Katerina Parsons | Apr 1, 2017
Here I’m asked to explain it: why we talk so loudly, why we dress so sloppy, why we elected Donald Trump.
