Category Imagining America
I wanted to go home, home-home, England-home, Queen’s English and hot tea and rude strangers home. I wanted to float out across the horizon, to tread the invisible line between surging coal-dark sea and soaring coal-dark sky.
“This place is something else,” the cab driver says ominously as they pull up to the motel. The girl in the back says nothing. Dumping her overstuffed suitcase out of the trunk, he drives off quickly, leaving her standed in the parking lot. She stares at the spot the car has just vacated, eyes […]
We dropped out of America and landed in a sea of flying beads and semi-nudity. New Orleans was like no place on earth and nowhere does Mardi Gras like New Orleanians…
I never wanted the journey to end but I would lean eagerly forward into the horizon, feeling somehow nostalgic for a future which lingered just beyond those Christmas tree buildings as they swung into view. I loved the sight of that city at night.