All my life, I have code-switched. Different linguistic patterns have either found their place in my speech, or stamped themselves onto me.
Most people only pass through the city briefly, get a glance of ‘dirty jerz’ through the airport or the train and make their opinions accordingly.
It turns out that writing is easy. Editing is a nightmare.
I spend most days on the couch with my laptop, reading in sweatpants. But at the risk of sounding cheesy, the couch is rewarding in its own way.
I’m half Spanish and half South Korean—two countries that don’t share much except, perhaps, soccer.
It’s easy to put Salvadoran children in cages if you convince the world that they are animals.
The phrase “coming home” has a connotation of something familiar and stable, like a soft couch you sit in after a long and full day.
The night lamps caressed the cars, homes, and passerbys nicely, but there were more details to be seen.