As an American living abroad, there is almost no sustained conversation with a citizen of a foreign country that doesn't, at some point turn to America's follicularly-avant-garde leader.
A little background on Day of the Dead and a brand new, related model shoot.
Since World War II, we have been a nation that said we were a home for the outcast. It has been our identity in the world; it has been our beacon, a figurative idea made literal by the statue of Lady Liberty that stands roughly 5 miles from where I type this. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
Emily and I had reached the end of our time in Spain, which included our week in La Alberca, a weekend in Barcelona, and a couple scattered days in Madrid. Monday, after our wild Sunday night in Barcelona, we had to catch an early flight back to Madrid. In the morning's haze light, the city looked … Continue reading Authentic Cuisine: Cocido Madrileñe
In the months since we returned, the two of us have chatted often about how our time in Spain has stuck with us. Just last night, she texted me, "It's hard to put into words just how amazing it really was."
My home is where I rest my head at any given time, my home is any stop along I-70 or any town where a friend will share a drink with me. My home is the United States.
This past week has been loud. Our entrance into the Gilded Phage erupted in protests, violence, and hate speech, while Twitter fights, Facebook rants, and, most vital, thoughtful blog posts remain at pre-Election levels. Voices are still reaching the cheap seats as dire warnings of an encroaching wave of racism and bigotry are met with caustic dismissals … Continue reading What can a white, heterosexual, cisgender male do? Listen.