Our neighbors and my family sat huddled at a table, Bathed in the smoky vapors and light from a kerosene lantern, With the smell of temples, Like mosquito coils from Japan…
I taught my friends bachata in the middle of Manchester. My worlds were colliding…
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The warm and humid tropical air hugs me and in the blink of an eye, it opens a box of memories from another life…
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he busy streets normally filled with cars were replaced with loud, colorful parades…
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