It’s a place I go to.  Sometimes.  Where it feels oddly familiar, even though I don’t come from this place.  As if every cell in my body remembers…the past. Boston, Massachusetts

Immersed In A Past Life

  I enter a region, a place, a city where I know I’ve lived before.  I want to speak Spanish, jump on the back of a pony and ride out into the desert.  It’s a feeling of comfortable familiarity, like a second skin or a well-loved pair of slippers that are form-fitted to my feet, …