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July 15, 2018

2 am. It's Miriam on the phone. To her it's 9 pm. She's in Peru and sounds stressed. I'm in England, dream cracked open, asking her what's wrong. When I opened a restaurant eight years ago, 10000 ft up an Andean mountain, a knock on our door was the usual signal of a d...

January 7, 2017

Gavin’s voice sounded like beige socks worn with sandals.

Welcoming, but not our type—not from our world of dumpster surfing and cold weather under duvets.

Welcoming was right; we’d only racked up in his olde English village to collect a bed, not share anecdotes over tea...

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