Should we focus on solving the world’s problems or living with our problems? And what does it look like to work with and in our problems?
A man stumbled to his right as my friend dragged me towards hers. Chicago’s bright city lights dissipated to yellow patches that broke up the darkness as we found ourselves on a street that ran below Michigan Avenue.
Nothing I have been writing feels good enough lately. Call it a writer’s block, maybe a quality block, but the truth is, I have not been feeling great.
For a friend
I had just closed the bedroom door when I saw el dueño de la casa staring down at me with suspicion, “¿Ya pagaste?”. Did you pay already? He knew what sneaking out looked like.
My wings had melted and, like Icarus, I fell— hard, fast, completely. And I found myself at the bottom of a pit as dark as night and as vivid as ice-cold water.
“I came out of the closet as a gay man when I was 16, but I came out of the closet as a black man when I was born.”
Time in quarantine feels nonsensical. How can we infuse meaning back into our days– and reclaim our 2020?
As a person who could always rely on me, I suddenly saw my unreliability for what it was. I had become unstable, and the reality of it slapped me hard across the face.
“Morocco is the most beautiful country in the world. Because why? Because we have everything: two oceans, mountains, deserts, fresh water, and sunshine. What more do humans need?”