The first time I saw a bucket of jaraqui being unloaded from a wooden boat on the Rio Negro, I […]
The first time I heard an astrophysicist casually say, “Even after a nuclear apocalypse, Earth would be paradise compared to
The first time I brought a neon-green pool noodle into my kitchen, my partner raised an eyebrow so high it
The woman in the elevator smells like late summer. Not the obvious, sweet kind of summer that comes from a
The first bird arrives before the kettle boils. A small, round chickadee, feathers puffed against the February chill, lands on
The first sound was not the clang of metal, not the gasp of astonishment, but the slow, everyday scrape of
The first thing they noticed was the silence. Not the gentle hush of snow or the soft quiet of a
On a gray February morning, as sleet patters against the kitchen window and the coffee pot hisses softly, a different
The first time I saw a pool noodle in someone’s kitchen, I actually laughed. It leaned casually against the fridge
The first time I saw it from space, it looked almost beautiful—a soft, brown ribbon curling across the blue of
The first time I bit into a ripe persimmon, it felt like biting into a sunset. The skin was smooth
By all reasonable accounts, I should have laughed and rolled over. A bay leaf under the pillow? It sounded like
The first thing you notice is the tail—an almost ghostly sweep of light, caught mid-breath against a salt-black sky. It
The news drifted across kitchen tables and phone screens the way winter sunlight spills across a quiet street—soft at first,
The first time I made this pasta, I burned the garlic, overcooked the noodles, and nearly smoked out my tiny
If you stand on the floor of the Great Rift Valley at dawn, the world feels like it’s holding its
The mug was the first thing I noticed. Thick, chipped at the rim, the color of wet moss after rain.
The first thing you notice isn’t the silence. It’s the sound beneath it. A low, steady swell of waves breathing
The news leaked out quietly at first, the way dawn leaks into the edges of a window. A date. A
The first thing you notice is the smell of oil and cold iron. It hangs in the air of the
The coffee shop was loud in that way city cafés get loud—every voice trying to be heard over the others,