I believe in being whammed by play, playing with these words, playing with light, roughness, ready for a smile, a laugh, a joke, ready to please my grandad when I was young.

I remember the picture of me and my brothers around him, of him opening his mouth not only to smile but to laugh, to laugh aloud, to almost cry in laughter, in joy, when most of what I remember are his frowns, his sternness, his want to control.

Continue reading “Play (or Boyishness)” →

When so many of us look the other way as we pass a stranger on the street, surely it is good to celebrate the positive effect of a simple expression that can blossom our day with warmth, love, and a little magic.

One of my clearest childhood memories is a pilgrimage in France and Spain when I was eight years old. For a couple of weeks, I walked and hiked the mountain range known as the Pyrenees with my dad, two of my brothers and other pilgrims. I remember the blood-orange earthy trails, suncream, my blue hat, hiking boots, chocolate milk and salami baguettes.

Continue reading “Spanish smile” →