Our identities are as fluid as our personal experiences are diverse.
Paradise is a state of being, more than just the name of a suburb or a home.
This is what I know about my parents. They spent the next several years trying to forget each other, and me.
Shakespeare had it right all along: Love will kill you in the end.
I remember feeling that pieces of me were scattered around the world; I belonged to her, Mother Earth.
Nobody, she felt, understood her-not her mother, not her father, not her sister or brother, none of the girls or boys at school, nadie - except her man.