Jul/Aug 2011 |
e c l e c t i c a
t r a v e l
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Blue Hour
Two one-ways Geneva, please. As we're counting the money and giving it to the mustache, bills are falling on the ground, and when we pick them up, we lose count. I start to just hand him the bills without counting. Bills that have been ripped and taped together, bills that are not allowed to leave the country in times of crisis. Sweaty bills that don't care.
Seth Siegel
Transatlantic
We're just past the mid-Atlantic ridge, and dawn is bringing shape to the cloud world. It is creation from blackness. This is an unnatural daybreak, sailing over the horizon when it's not even one in the morning. Dawn at midnight, and shapes dance before my eyes.
Sarah Parker
The Receptionist Engineer at Hotel Del Peregrino
Jose the receptionist soon morphed into Jose the Yucatecan, and then Jose a once med student who renounced Medical school in favor of Engineering to stay close to his parents. Jose the engineer traveled far and wide-to Taiwan, to Hong Kong, to Japan, and El Salvador. And Louisiana.
Girija Sankar
Skinny Girls' Caracas Night Out
A couple of months later, when Mari and Elizabeth next saw Beatriz, they too could not believe their eyes. This couldn't be the Bea they had become so used to. This elegant wraith! This vision of Pre-Raphaelite maidenhood! And thus, like a nuclear chain-reaction, which I'm sure by now has reached the very borders of Venezuela—What joy! What pride! What envy!—Mari and Elizabeth couldn't get to Dr. Miraculous Mata fast enough.
William Reese Hamilton