It’s half an hour shy of midnight in an America where three cops who murdered a young woman in her own home probably just finished having dinner with their wives. Moesha re-runs permeate my TV screen. While I sit in the middle of a quarantined, pandemic-ridden, racially tense civil war…

8:49am. Tuesday morning. DFW Airport. 27 days shy of my 25th birthday. I’m fed up with the familiar. In the faint daze of a cross between dissatisfaction and blind naïveté, I bought a one way ticket to a new life. 56 minutes until I board and I’m looking for some…

She was on a recent cover of Time Magazine. In all her lucid stature and heavenly grace, on the other side of my eyes: a Godsend. To the world she is Cicely Tyson — a living Hollywood legend, a human paradigm of what a respected and lucrative career is like…

Two months ago I still had $2,000 and an arm without scars. Today I’m sleeping in Central Park with seven dollars and a banjo. This all happened ’cause I left. I left her just like she was. Right there on that couch where she built her own empire. That couch…