Nassau Weekly

Eliza MacFarlane

  • Northward

    Northward

    —

    by

    in

    y November you already thought of returning, rubbing Vaseline into your palms and the crevices of your cracked heels. No napalm rained down in a foreign land, no birth dates streamed across the screen to push our brothers into war.

  • Georgian Roads

    Georgian Roads

    —

    by

    in

    After my brother’s ten-minute soliloquy on Karl Popper, I had lost track of his connection with George Soros or Georgia.

  • Vignettes from the Hinterlands

    Vignettes from the Hinterlands

    —

    by

    in

    On the seventieth anniversary of Ataturk’s death I was in the mountains between Van and Diyarbakir with a baby on my lap and her three year old brother stretched out on the seat behind me while their mother tried to sleep, the silk scarf slipping from her hair.