Middle

I'm in the middle of every project now.

Under

We swim now, as the days become warmer. We swim and swim and hold our eyes open for a fraction of a second before we kick to the surface and emerge just in time.

Chaco Canyon

Chaco Canyon was once thriving. Hundreds of people lived in these pueblos, eating, drinking, dancing...

Just after my parents divorce, my mother took me to Chaco Canyon. While I explored the ruins, she laid in the sun. I could hear the voices, smell the fires, see the bustle while my mother said, with each passing day, her own worries were evaporating.

A House

When I am alone in my house, it feels as if I am the only one has ever lived here. The walls are mine, the windows are mine, the floor is mine and, at the same time, they also belong to someone else's memory.

Immigrants

Early one morning, I walked by this church, de Oude Kerk, and as I stopped for coffee, I watched a group of Peruvians with mops and buckets by their feet, sharing a box of croissants. Soon five Bulgarian women passed and stepped inside their respective, red-lit rooms, newly cleaned by the Peruvians. The Bulgarian women pulled the curtains shut most likely stripping down to their work lingerie. A light rain began to fall and instead of disbanding, the Peruvians huddled ever closer.

Sunday Morning

Sunday mornings are no longer reserved for myself. Now, I provide the instruction, the conscience, the boundaries for my small congregation.

Ghost Town

Will we remember this moment or will it dwell only within photos, a flash of equanimity burnished by time?