I could not make a head or tail of it. Was that who I thought it was behind the door? And the guard, the rifle–was it not all symbolic?

Doors open ways to houses and rooms, to different worlds - a photo story.

“Believe.” That’s it. The word’s resonance paralyzed me; I couldn’t move and couldn’t understand a thing.

Thoughts about Lady History by a half-drunk warden in the park.

A hairy mass slams into my legs. George is desperately trying to get to Blubber. “That’s a violation!” I say.

Reflections of an exchange student from Sweden on joining a Brazilian Jiu-jitsu club in Melbourne, Australia.

"soul dripping from tongue and stumbling eyes every slurred word a poem in itself"

Catholic schools are a common choice for parents in the US who are looking for alternatives to public school: an option with pros and cons.

A photo story focusing on a local bread maker to show the bread being baked and then eventually sold.

A poem about the moments in between...

Artwork by Nina Olivier depicting St Michael.

A poem in Lithuanian and English.

A photo story.