The Time I Led A Code at the Airport
The strangest thing I see is the transition between deadness and aliveness, the way this man’s face gets filled again as though with something. Continue reading The Time I Led A Code at the Airport
The strangest thing I see is the transition between deadness and aliveness, the way this man’s face gets filled again as though with something. Continue reading The Time I Led A Code at the Airport
Por Danilo López-Román “Ay! ¡Yo no quiero que me operen!”, dijo Vilma Román mientras era conducida por su esposo e hijos con amor y firmeza [será eso lo que los americanos llaman “tough love?] hacia el Toyota Tercel gris modelo 2000. En pleno siglo XXI, no hay ambulancias en Managua y la re-elección de Daniel Ortega a la presidencia de la república en Noviembre de 2007 únicamente trajo falsas esperanzas a … Continue reading Doña Vilma y su cortejo: Postales de una tarde en un hospital en Managua
This is a video conceptualization of the poem To My Wasted Eggs, written by Pamela L. Taylor, illustrated by artist Mira D’Souza. Video conceptualization by Iris Mónica Vargas. I found this beautiful poem while reading the journal JAMA. The poem, written by Pamela L. Taylor, PhD., is a powerful piece made even more so by the fact that it describes the reality of many women … Continue reading To My Wasted Eggs
Behind locked doors, I bear witness to a different kind of suffering, the plaintive cry of voiceless souls on fire burning with the fury of neglect. Continue reading On the Psychiatric Frontlines of the COVID-19 Pandemic
Una pareja, una Boricua y un Americano, tiene un bebé, pero algo ocurre. ¿Tú sabes cómo a veces dices una mentira y se sigue complicando, y crece tanto la ficción que lo envuelve todo? Continue reading Pequeña mentira blanca