My Fairy-Tale Life, by Steven Boone

The great jazz player Louis Armstrong said, “Musicians don't retire; they stop when there's no more music in them.” I have always th...

I was surprised to see Amy crying, because it is rare. She broke down while reciting the poem, Cultivo una Rosa Blanca, by José Martí, (Cub...

A party is in order. An artist has completed his masterpiece—an ornate railing for our stairs—and for that there must be an unveiling and ce...

I followed the bird in flight. It came from where the sun had risen along craggy cliffs at Mazunte, Mexico on the Pacific coast. Breakfast ...

  The shop is set back from the main street of Atzompa, a village on the outskirts of Oaxaca, famous for its pottery. A broad parking lot in...

  It is like surfing a big wave, moving to Mexico. I have been swept along, thrilled to be in each moment, feeling I could fall dangerously,...

It is one thing to move and find a new address to receive mail, and another to have no address at all. My brother was incredulous when he le...

Our house is magical; it drew us into itself. All the way from New Mexico USA to Oaxaca, Mexico, near Central America.   We have met neighbo...

Oh boy, what a wild and crazy ride it has been for the last three months. And now we are in Mexico, living in the house that brought us here...

  A change in the weather is sufficient to recreate the world and ourselves. —Marcel Proust Santa Fe winter Of a sudden, the weather here i...