Hello again, Newcastle

I always have that moment when I come here. That moment where everything is so blissfully perfect, my love-tank filled by the hour– people and places that mean so much to me, and if it was all a meal? It would be tummy-satisfied Thanksgiving. Then I always have that...

A Partial and Piecemeal Identity

She curls up under two duvets, as the downpour pounds on the eaves of the tin roof. Sadly and excitedly comforting, it reminds her of the days in her dry hometown where precipitation was something to dance about. Now in a wet, faraway land, natives moan and groan...