He felt endangered by the solitude, even at risk of vanishing.

Once upon a time, there was a lord who lit / Fire to his castle

The movement of a fly becomes a rational thought / there are boys and then there are boys

Only women are capable of occupying that oxymoron: alone together.

I used to meet him at the coffee shop, / the one in Remal

Gooood Mourning Pa-les-tiiiiiiiiiine!

My family is mouths spread wide like wounds, telling everything but the story that must be told.

From Aube Rey Lescure’s debut novel, River East, River West

A new book gets inside Guatemala’s international adoption industry and the complicated context of deciding a child’s welfare.

The West doesn’t give a shit about me.