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On marriage
Marriage is a really, really bad idea. Separation has been in the air we breathe since the beginning.
London
On why I don’t get to London often enough. Fish and chips on Notting Hill. Noodles and dumplings steaming in Chinatown. And the correct Brasier.
Sevilla
He flew to Europe to pick me up. I had already crossed it alone. From Paris to Portugal, a month apart collapsed the space between us again.
Paris
I got a Eurorail ticket to leave the man who would become my husband now. He flew me to Europe, bought me walking boots, put me on the train. Twenty years and three daughters later, I still return.
The mother with tattoos
At Matosinhos beach I saw a mother, poised and tattooed like scripture. Her thong flashed. She was the me I stopped becoming.
Seoul
I travelled alone this trip. I was marrying him this year and needed this trip for myself. I ate Kimchi jjigae on Garosu-gil and restored what I never should’ve lost.
Spring Moon
Some bonds don’t begin when bodies meet. They complete what placement already started.
