What it felt like to wake up of a morning and remember I was in Scotland (1998, 2001, 2005, 2010, 2011) I would ascend from a dream of notable strangeness, dimly recalling that waking would take place soon. I’d vaguely recall the bed, the room, the light creeping in, and then a -pop!- in my… Continue reading Of a Morning in Scotland
I have always been a seeker of the perfect scent. Problem is, I have a negative sensitivity to smells; some perfumes even give me an instant, splitting migraine. And I’m quite talented at spotting a smell a mile away, and oftentimes even identifying it correctly. One year, I had gone to Nantucket with a boyfriend,… Continue reading Perfume – an exerpt from “Confessions of a Travel Snob”
Have you ever stood inside a cello?
To My Love/Yet to Be Tasted This street—ours—gray, blockaded with scaffold, It is our street today. Out the close bistro window white candle, pewter stand, sandy joug of water Edinburgh—ours to visit and to possess concurrent Life and candle together Juliet balcony and chimney pot International needs, wants, clashing Crashing as waves against seagull trying… Continue reading Not Yet Tasted
Morning wishing away time sprawling longing tartan pipes rising ghostly cold glens at thirty thousand feet remedies running late want ad text frozen lips canned food a stiff two blocks away drawn ruddy by foreign language as any Oscar-winning film Coffee cures the need quite nicely my last dollar… Continue reading AWAY