Notes

AI Generated Image + Poetry - Ghost in the machine...

Of all his fascinations with Argentina, Norton was indifferent if not resentful to all that tango was. An English ex-pat and native of Leeds, he always seemed aloof when watching the dancers step in their melancholic embrace. Strange too ‘cause he himself exported another of that land’s better known

“I’m telling you that’s how it was.” he laughed, she belted… “and you thought I was the one who was strange” Another stream of shoulder carried chuckles. “So really you dreamt of ants carrying sugar?” “Yes, outsourcing, I told my boss if we could manage to employ millions

On Sitting and Finding I’ve been in Los Angeles for a few weeks building out a new retail project. Checking in with a friend in my home base of San Francisco they asked if I could recount any special experiences that I have had during my stay here. Immediately

Nelly Growing up my family in Chile had a strong willed Mapuche Indian maid named Nelly. Nelly worked for my grandparents for over 50 years until her death in her mid 70s to cancer. She officially retired at 65, but still worked half days with us to keep busy and

Álvaro Mutis, the Colombian poet and novelist who created one of Latin American literature’s more memorable characters, the rambling and ruminative Maqroll, an inadvertent explorer of jungles and his own jaded soul for whom life seemed a long and futile boat ride, mostly upriver, often running aground, died on

Mukokuseki[in Japanese] means ‘no nationality’, stateless, “without ground”.  Prior to the Edo era there were no words for the 'national’ or the 'non-national’ because Japan was closed to world. Only when the ports opened in 1864 was the existence of other cultures given official recognition with a

“Youth is a disease cured by age” “Bernard Shaw said that.”  Pausing my Grandpa for me to reflect. My Grandpa is 91. His name is Heinz. He’s lived through a lot. Born in a hospital on the entrance of Valpariso, an important, central, and global port. He moved to

Walking from the east and heading on Regent to the corner of Dwight, a sheet of paper screened with the image of Gandhi slid with the wind in such a way that when Jagdish stepped the paper became flat in perfect unison with the sidewalk. He stopped and looked not