After 7 years of living in the same quirky little corner of Seattle, Rand and I moved across town to a bigger place in a smaller neighborhood. One would think, after literally years spent at careers that requires us to constantly move from one place to another, we would be pretty good at it. We…
“You never wrote about the curry plane.” “The … the curry plane?” He nods, pouting. I am confused. “Like, a plane of existence that consists of … curry?” I ask, hoping for clarification. He is annoyed. “The curry plane.” “The curry plain,” I say, nodding, having no idea to what he is referring. “… a…
My immigrant parents, while bestowing upon me the gift of worldliness, with their accents and many passports and the ease with which they code-switched, yelling at one another in English, German, Italian, and Russian, left a glaring omission in my childhood: there was no Americana. It was not that America itself was absent from my…
Rand’s work had brought us to New Mexico for the very first time, and in a few weeks, we’d be in Japan. The timing was unintentional but it felt like my path was already set. If I was going to walk through Hiroshima, now long rebuilt, I couldn’t do so without considering the consequences of…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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