ABOUT THE FIRST TIME I MET CHARLES MANSON

He still had an enviable crop of hair and beard, now gray and relatively kempt, and though his skin was doughy and shadow-less his eyes were as soft and expressive as a pig's. As he sat at a visitation table in clean blue chambray, he looked less like America's most dangerous criminal and more like the original Maytag Man, waiting fist-to-cheek.

ABOUT THE FIRST TIME I MET CHARLES MANSON

ABOUT PORTOBELLO ROAD

I walk down Portobello Road, past the bright blue, red, and yellow facades of buildings that I have no desire to enter, past glossy, small boutiques filled with narrow-hipped women…I’m wearing clean scrubs, clogs. A foreigner. Refugee from a hospital, wanting to preserve my other life, the person I was before the sacrifices of this long training.

ABOUT PORTOBELLO ROAD

DRACULA, RUNES AND THE MIDNIGHT SUN

I was sure there were missing pages or I was misremembering the story of Dracula. I soon realized, though, that I wasn’t looking for an exquisitely crafted translation or even a new understanding of Dracula. Rather, I was reveling in the fact that one of my favorite stories had made its way to my favorite place in the world.

DRACULA, RUNES AND THE MIDNIGHT SUN

TO THE BONG WHO TOOK US TO THE ZOO

Phnom Penh is built on people. Relationships, memory, loyalty—these are the currencies of Cambodia. Most visitors to the Kingdom will come home and tell of “the people.” Living in Phnom Penh, especially as a barang, or expat/foreigner, became a daily maze of friendships, obligations, and favors.

TO THE BONG WHO TOOK US TO THE ZOO