(Open on panning shots of trees, squirrel’s-eye view, sliding from the ground up. Fade into golden leaves being blown from their branches, drifting in and out of focus. Peaceful orchestral music mixed with ambient bird song plays.)   Wizened British Narrator:  As the last leaves of autumn fall t

—With excerpts from “The Gift of Scoliosis” by Debra Ordes   1 May was the month of sorting. I turned out my desk drawers, moved my bookshelf, recruited my mother’s help to replace the adolescent turquoise on my walls with a calm alternative called “Baby Fawn.”   Hours into rearranging

     Busia’s house always felt foreign to me. I was used to shag carpets, floral wallpapers, and watching Hogan’s Heroes on our white Zenith television back at home. Busia’s, on the other hand, was more like a relic from the postwar housing boom. The wallpapers were khaki-colored, spotted r

     I take pictures more than I used to. I wish I was better at it, but I don’t care to improve. No picture I take could ever fully explain why I take them. Some photographers, the famous ones you always hear about, are said to be able to capture a personality, love, even […]

     The stars gleamed in her direction, in all directions, staring like eyes from those long ago. She laid on her back, lengthening her spine and feeling entirely aware of the jagged boards beneath her. The black landscape surrounding her felt like cozying into a homemade blanket on a cold winte


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