Each place I have visited sparks a completely different kind of inspiration that I always feel compelled and motivated to bring to my work, either in movement, writing, or even in the kitchen. However, because of this fast flush of information and motivation that comes with each journey, the process of landing back home becomes a little bit more difficult to navigate.Read More
Some Poetry for Dawn. Wake up just a notch earlier on the clock, and the mist in the distant hills will tell you what you’ve been missing. Lavender light spanning the spectrum of sky until it becomes orange and bright. Birds feeding on the terrace ledge, fighting for bread kernels you left out the night before.
The self-given gift of slowly moving limbs, stretching and creaking awake, instead of flailing in a rush out the door. And quiet. Think of the quiet you’ve been missing.
Every morning the world is created. Mornings are poems. Whispering sheets, hazy eyelids, the still blue darkness. Our living room window shade is old and creaky and has to be opened from the outside, so I start each day shuffling around the terrace, hauling open wooden panels, always taking a moment to gaze out of our little box of a viewRead More
While millions of pumpkin spice lattes are brewing in America, here there is only the slightest change in breeze temperature to signal the seasons changing. This is about the time of year when a bittersweet sort of homesickness kicks in. The longer I live in Morocco, the more wildly these feelings seem to fluctuate.Read More