Loving foreign cities is a bit like having an illicit love affair with someone you know is bad for you, but damn, he smells of hotel rooms and leather motorcycle jackets on hot summer evenings when time is nothing but a concept. You just cannot help yourself: salvation might be a wonderful thing but the… Read More The Allure of Cities
My grandfather loved fountain pens. He collected them, testing each potential new one carefully in the shop before he bought it and then, carrying it home wrapped in tissue paper, already anticipating which ink he would use first . He slipped out in the evenings, leaving the noise of his eight children and many grandchildren… Read More My Grandfather’s Fountain Pen
There are tangos that beguile you with their elegance and focus. There are tangos that slither up beside you on a bar stool in Buenos Aires, and steal your money and your dignity, dripping in silk and deception. There are tangos that rescue you from loneliness, wrap you in firelight and tenderness. There are tangos… Read More Blood Tango
hollow places 