Back and Forth

The last few months passed at hyperspeed. I'm pursuing a few secret opportunities for next year, traveling to new spots, and picking up more private English classes. (I've also developed a strange and disappointing reaction to bananas. Anytime I eat these very specific ones from the Canary Islands, my mouth itches and burns like an evil pox. I choose to blame it on pesticides, but I avoid eating those bananas all the same.)

Since I last checked in, I've been to Cádiz, Valencia, and a few other cities. I'm trying, desperately, to inhale as much of the landscape as possible while I'm on the Iberian Peninsula. When I was in Portugal last month, someone told me that the name "al-Andalus" was derived from a word meaning "heaven," and while that etymology is debatable, I agree that the countryside here is nearly celestial. Before I return to the U.S., my goal is to explore more of Portugal and Spain. We'll see how that goes.

In the midst of everything swirling around my world, I'm also working on lots of little writing projects. For the first time in years, I'm writing short fiction. It is an absolute joy! Creating such tiny, alternative realities is empowering. Fiction gives me a unique sense of control and liberation. These little narratives are an excuse to be self-indulgent about any topic I want, whether it's Janelle Monáe or public transportation or feminist movies.

To be a writer is to be be selfish, and I happily accept that mantle.

While there is much more to report, I leave you here to read myself to sleep. After an unintentional rash of bleak books (Not That Bad, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love; The Crown Ain't Worth Much), I'm finally working on something (possibly) lighter: Richard Adams's Watership Down. As a child, I false-started this book at least a half-dozen times. I never reached the end, but this time it finally clicks. I couldn't be more delighted.

Eastbound, por las Marismas de Isla Cristina