Notes from my journey

I’ve been writing since I was a sure-handed toddler.

Well, I can’t exactly call it “writing” back then. Not much later, I would move my pencil tip to create different combinations of letters until I actually made a real word. “Mom! Is this a word?” V-A-N. Stirring a pot of noodles on the stove, she looked at me lying on the carpeted floor with a long list of jibberish. “Yes,” she said. I was ecstatic. Hopefully these words are a bit more interesting.

Images contained in this section are my own, unless otherwise noted.

My journey through Yad Vashem.

Yad Veshem is meant to make you, the visitor, feel uncomfortable. It did.

Photo by Eelco Böhtlingk

An afternoon in Sayulita and San Pancho.

Sayulita is the “Alcupolco for gypsies.” Like the rest of Mexico– the Mexico I’ve seen — even death does not stop the color.

His skin is a tribute to the history of tattooing.

“You work for the federal government?” he has been asked, incredulously. “A lot of times I wear long sleeves. Not because I want to cover them up, but because I don’t want to put up with the dumb questions and gawkin,” Jamie Revis said.

I don’t have time to hang my clothes outside.

I need to wear that outfit tonight.