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Submitted to Contest #85
That’s the thing about this city. Positano burrows. I was warned I would never want to leave it. I was cajoled into experiencing it, dared even. My frequent flier miles and a generous offer made the experience possible. Would quitting my job be worth it? My boss did not think so. My mother did not think so. My friends did not think so. South of Naples and bleary-eyed from the overnight flight, I saw that Positano is one big cliff rising from the Bay of Salerno. The town’s one road winds, turns back on itself, loops around churches and vil...
Reuniting with Roma I love Roma so much I live there two months a year. But one year, Roma morphed from lover to spouse, no longer striving to delight me. Suddenly, it was enough for the city to span the Tiber with bridges, illuminate the ruins, and provide busses with bodies and backpacks oozing from both entrata and ustica doors. I did not have an "ah ha" moment, rather a series of moments that moved my passion for Roma to echoes of medieval bells and memories of riso gelato. It was good while it lasted. Then it was over. Maybe it was ...
Submitted to Contest #27
Braless in Bucharest From sandaled teens in spandex shorts to dusty crones in shapeless dresses, the women of Bucharest exhibited a certain freedom. Nipple shadows smudged thin, summer fabrics. Breasts bounced and jiggled. I was the only woman on Independence Boulevard wearing a bra. My inch of cleavage, daring on the airplane, now seemed dull. My bra felt like armor, chain mail at the feast after the battle is won. I had seen ...
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