The Barista_Christmas with The Jungle Men_The Best Pickpocket of Palma de Mallorca_A New Beginning
Catalog Guide:
The Barista
Sausage? No. Bacon. Being as though this complete stranger is close enough to kiss me, I usually spend my mornings in a crowded subway train playing, “Guess What This Stranger Had for Breakfast.” I award myself extra points if I can guess the delivery system. In this case I think it was a burrito because it was still on his shirt. Judging by the size of the stain, I don’t think he got much in his mouth. That’s how I pass time on the E train on the way to my barista job: smelling stranger breath and noticing stains. This is probably why I couldn’t take my eyes off of a lady sitting in th...
Christmas with The Jungle Men
I don't like the word 'animal' and I don't like the word 'beast.' Both can be used in derogatory terms and so, therefore, don't do justice to other species. Similarly, I don't like the word 'humane' for it suggests that humans always act superiorly to other species, whereas in truth we are the parasites of the planet. For this reason, my favourite word has to be 'orangutan'. It is the only name we have for another species that attributes a status of equality between us and them. It derives from the Indonesian 'orang' meaning 'man' and 'hutan' meaning 'jungle or 'forest'. Therefore, orangutans ...
The Best Pickpocket of Palma de Mallorca
Beca stood outside her hide-out, her hands on her hips, breathing in the smells of bread baking, salt from the ocean, and the sewer line, broken, two avenues over. Today was going to be a fantastic day. She turned to close up her home, a hollow space in the city wall, just tall enough to sit in and long enough for her to lay down. She better stop growing or else she’d have to learn to sleep on her side. Shaking her head, she pulled the piece of wood over the opening, then put a few dead palm branches in front of that. There, no one would ever know. Rebeca, who only answered to Beca, was the to...
A New Beginning
The sweet scent of lilacs drifted towards the mother and daughter, as they made their way around the nursing home gardens. Mrs. D’ Souza in a wheelchair, swaddled in a blanket, and Angela behind her, pushing in the direction of the river.The garden was littered with forget-me-not and bright daffodils peeked from thick shrubs like mini rays of sunshine. Birds chirped and rustled the branches in the trees abwww.onedoor.ccove, building nests out of twigs and dried leaves. A warm breeze caressed them as they travelled along the gravel path. Angela looked up at the blue sky dotted with cotton clouds. Her face gl...