Crossing Cultures
We’re waiting to catch a train to Venice, four of us: my husband and I, our son and…
We’re waiting to catch a train to Venice, four of us: my husband and I, our son and…
“Since the house is on fire, let us warm ourselves.” (Italian proverb) Monday,…
I walked the beach where Mario Ruoppolo recorded metaphors for Neruda. I put my feet in…
Wine always reminds me of my grandfather. I can’t remember the first time I tasted…
I was standing outside the Palermo airport with my brother and sister, soaking in the…
As I sit to write this piece, I am hit by a cosmic, albeit familiar, question: Who am I,…
When nonno Carmine Fortunato’s family stopped hearing from him, they thought what…
The following account is a creative nonfiction short story inspired by an old box that…
Inspired by the popular uprising which began in Tunisia in December 2010, the people of…
My grandmother’s house is too warm. Too crowded. Our second cousins from New York,…