Oh, Murakami, you sly fox, you mercurial and fluid, thread a web between East and west that we at once desperately need and can’t quite comprehend. And yet we return, thirsty and increasingly drunk of the elixir that is the product of your craft.
Bohemian nights in Valencia where the gypsies shred violins into the coming dark
“Rhythmic swells reverberate trough my lungs. The back streets of Valencia.
Back street Europe.
Romani enclaves and gypsy parts of town.
We’ll sit here in the Plaça de la Virgen with our stiff sangria, smartly bashful in red-faced delerium.
For it is Spring and the blossoms have begun to sing.
A nod to blanco nerium”
A poem to the City of Oranges. An Open Love Letter to the City of Valencia, Spain.
The story of Rome is one of civilizations greatest epics. One of humanity’s greatest successes. And perhaps even greater failures. And thus, all at once perhaps its most tragic. In just over 500-centuries what began as a humble village, just a salty sea breeze away from the Mediterranean, calcified into a peal, a nucleus upon […]
All of these things are true… I had been in Jordan for several weeks and my love affair with Arabian sweets had reached a lofty peak. In fact, I would begin and end each day with a platter of pastries, smothered in honeys and syrups that would flood through heaps of pistachios on my plate. Then it happened… I… […]
Don’t be victimized by the culture of fear. Our planet is waiting to be explored, to reveal it’s secrets to you, to me, to any who dare ask, it will expose you to the raw truths of life. To the quarks of distant cultures and alien tongues. To disgusting foods and delicious cuisines, to dangerous and countless blessings.