He was asked where he felt at ‘home’
A smile and a wince
I grew up not far from here in a small town.
I immediately moved out when I came home from travels.
Not generations but mentalities
A disconnect from those who had returned
I want to be in an urban space, where it is dynamic and social.
Born to an Italian father and Spanish mother
Her heart and soul raised in the Swiss Alps
I never realised that as a woman, I would have so much to carry on my shoulders.
Hair messy, eyes wild with laughter
It is good we came here, to mix things up a bit.
She closed her eyes, warming them in the morning sun
A monument that stood to house neighbourhood kids
Motorcycles and bicycles piled up
In line to play soccer
He grabbed my notebook and began to draw
Our only form of communication.
Birds flying and fish swimming
Above and beyond the boats of Inle
Thanaka gleamed on his cheeks
He held up his fingers to show his age
Referred to as the saviour
As he secured his mother’s freedom from imprisonment
Caught amidst the battle
I represent the lost generation of El Salvador.
Innocent voices of a small boy
He would grow up to speak through the written word
New forms in a neoliberal world
I have always believed and keep believing in impossible things.
If I had been a boy, I would have worn trousers and climbed trees.
She laughed often and beautifully
Thankfully, religion is not as important as it used to be.
A widow in the streets of San Francisco
A noble man doesn’t boast or lie.
Breaking down stereotypes at 91
It’s really unbelievable!
The holy grail found in Spain. April fools.
Let him be our gate, our guidance
6 eggs cradled in grass in his backpack
He reached out his hand at the river crossing
An underestimated cook
I will ride ahead.
A blue scarf wrapped around his head for warmth
Red-hot pokers burn amidst Lobelias
Whips crack on animal backs
We will find a goat for you.