The Antidote for Personal Narrative
A month from now, I will be a full-time kindergarten teacher. This was not part of the plan. The plan was… well, there wasn’t much of one…
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Girls, Girls, Girl
The girls looked bored. They slouched in plastic chairs, picked at their nails, crossed and uncrossed their toothpick legs.
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On the Rails in Phnom Penh
We called him Eat Pray Paul. Because there were two Pauls and they were more or less indistinguishable — both red-faced old dudes who’d been kicking around Cambodia…
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Barang Goes To A Wedding
The music started before dawn. I knew this only because the holes in the corrugated tin roof revealed swaths of night.
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The Angelo Who Isn’t There
Street 182, just past dusk, and I’m moving through air as thick as swamp water.
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Cities Like Boys
Wait, wait—you’re moving to Cambodia?!” I nod. “I was just out there for a few months earlier this year. And now I’m headed back.”
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