Colombian Poetry Readings: How to Introduce Yourself on Open-Mic
That Night in Laureles When My Name Turned Into a Metaphor Ten years of Caribbean sun have bronzed more than my skin. They’ve toasted my
August 22, 2025
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That Night in Laureles When My Name Turned Into a Metaphor Ten years of Caribbean sun have bronzed more than my skin. They’ve toasted my
Desde la primera vez que me perdí entre montañas de papel I was twenty-three, freshly landed in Santo Domingo, when a summer drizzle drove me
I was sipping a late-night cafecito on my balcony in Santo Domingo when a cockroach the size of a small drone dive-bombed my keyboard. Ten
I was standing in the sleek lobby of a Bancolombia branch in Medellín, palms sweating the way they once did back in Santo Domingo when
El Salto de Fe: The Day I Signed My First Paragliding Waiver in Medellín I still remember the smell of mountain pine and gasoline the
La primera vez que metí la pata con unas pinzas My very first week in Santo Domingo, ten years ago, I waltzed into a corner
El billete digital que me salvó la noche I still laugh at the memory: a humid Tuesday in Santo Domingo, my moto-concho driver waiting impatiently
I was halfway up a guayaba tree in Las Terrenas, chasing an ambitious drone shot, when a ripe mango thudded against my shoulder and landed—mockingly
A Splashy Beginning: The Rainstorm That Revealed My Linguistic Leak Last September, a tropical downpour drummed so loudly on my Santiago apartment’s zinc roof that
By James, a 33-year-old Brit who perfected his Caribbean tan in Santo Domingo, discovered that chilled aguardiente tastes better in Medellín, and still trips over