The Sydney Opera House

I’m writing this as the breeze plays with the straps of my bag and the white sails of the Sydney Opera House glow amber and then blue as the clouds shift across the setting sun. Yes, it’s a dream sentence, inspired by a dream view, and it’s at moments like this that I’m pretty sure I have a dream job. Forgotten are yesterday’s

Sleeping Inside a Volcano

The sand I’m standing on is soft and bleached, the type that squeaks beneath your soles if you walk too fast. The type that snuggles between your toes and presses footprints across the beach, then scatters footprints across the wooden floors inside. It’s the…

A Night with the Bedouin

Sparks hissed from the fire where we clustered beneath the stars. The group fell silent, waiting for Hussein to finish his story. He sat cross-legged, wearing the traditional thawb and keffiyeh, his deep eyes lined with kohl.

“My darling,” he said, fixing his eyes on the girl in front of him. “Forget the astronomer. Come with me. I’ll show you the stars in the day.”