“As you read this, there is a man called Nico in a town named Puerto Montt carving life into the richest red wood you’ve ever seen.” Sydney Tammarine discovers the spirit of Chile through the carvings of a man named Nico.
“I said I had documented aesthetics on my side, and yes, it’s hard not to be anal when discussing antelope ass.” Kate McCorkle remembers a first home at the beginning of a marriage.
“As we waited at the airport in Vienna for a connecting flight, a Middle Eastern woman walked up to Anil and asked him, ‘You Arab?'”
Suripya Bhatnagar discusses prejudice and her desire to live in a more tolerant world.
“I press my forehead against the cold glass as the bus moves onward, the sliver of land between highways, the dogs, it all collapses into nothing.” Elena Robidoux writes of disillusionment in Peru.
“Each re-telling of those extraordinary tales of derring-do was invested with a sense of immediacy and cinematic detailing.” Chitralekha Basu concludes her memoir on the literature that shaped her.
“Ma got totally exasperated with the fights, which had become ritual, she would have with me over who got to read Desh first.” Part II of Chitralekha Basu’s literary childhood.
“Of course, the more I tried to get away from that past, the more I ran right into it.” M. M. Adjarian’s story of self discovery.
“We all lived in a hostel on Green Avenue in Bed-Stuy. My days were spent cleaning the rooms and making.” Michael E. Wilson Jr. writes of life and love at an international hostel in New York City.
“She couldn’t see very well, but her eyes still lit up whenever she smiled. Her skin was soft too, and wrinkly, a little bit like a tissue. ” Laney Burrell remembers three great-grandmothers, from three different Native American tribes.
“So on they talked freely, in their ignorant western European way, and though Moji seemed fine I knew why he didn’t speak.” Dakota Hall writes about passports and what some can do, while others cannot.