“This is doing time. This is giving away a piece of your life. If I did get fixed, it wasn’t jail that did the fixing.”
The phrase used was “barbed wire fever”—what we now call post-traumatic stress disorder.
I witnessed my mother work twice as hard as the men under the hot sun. All she had were her hands.
The police are there, expecting us, academics in revolutionaries’ outfits.
“Tourists accumulate photos and mementos; travelers collect memories and friends.”
“There’s nothing nuclear in what I do. It’s just rocks we dilute into powder.”
A strange inheritance from a grandfather resisting Franco and fascism in 1930s Spain.
“It was an alternate world, where the dead came everyday, and we treated it as normal.”
Teaching a creative writing workshop at a men’s prison in Iowa.
The idea of a peacefully united continent that acknowledges identity must prevail.