Death: the Healing Tonic
Our terror of death's endless.
Visit any public park, and you'll find no hint of death
Puglia: Un Posto Al Sole
Francesca wore more gold than Montezuma.
She'd swagger around her Puglian villa half-naked, drunkenly clutching 100 euro bottles
Rajasthani Afternoons
I met Anuj in an ashram cafeteria in Rishikesh.
He was holding court in an Adidas tracksuit, gathering followers as
I Choose
I choose to be my own wheel of life.
To radiate love in a world aching with suffering.
I choose
We're Starved for Connection
We're starved for real connection.
Starved for a connection with the mystery of life.
Where once there was
AWOL in Armenia
I was speeding through a blizzard in the Armenian highlands with a chain-smoking, one-handed taxi driver blasting Rabiz on his
Haywire in the Hashemite
Mac arrived to a bottle of the sleaziest Jordanian bootleg spirits I'd laid eyes on.
I had spent
The Malaganese Fairy Queen
Years later, I’d awake to a newspaper clipping of Stella being marched off to spend her golden years in
The Wannas Way: Afternoons by the Nile
I read the Koran as the Nubian sun began its 12-hour descent into the mythos of the ancient Egyptian underworld,
Adventures With Mr T.
He wasn’t exactly the guardian angel of my visions.
This little man with a ripped t-shirt, Colgate smile, and