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Will we get through the narrowspast this rushing of wild and wanton whitewaters of cruelty, brutality and a family huddlescrunched against the attackingagents wielding weaponssmashing glass for the security of the homeland miles from yesterdaywe told ourselvesthiscouldneverhappenhere nearly naked men piled in cagesarrested detained deporteda photo op moment in time we run with the riverrapids…
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From the first paragraph, Clarissa let it be known that while I might think I was in control of the narrative, this story was hers, not mine, to tell. So began a new chapter on a cold dark February morning in Southern Maine. Drawing upon one of my life’s inciting moments, I began to build…
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Born in Paris, raised in Washington, D.C. by a divorced and working mother, before either was trending, I was, from the start, from away. An outsider. More weed than wallflower. And there were lots to watch. I grew up surrounded by journalists and writers, foreign service types, and artists, who knew their bounds. And influenced…