Excerpt from Who's Afraid of Red
"He woke at dawn and watched them sleep. He felt connected to Maria and Noel, the way the heart is connected to the lungs, the way the skin is an umbrella organ for systems of great magnitude.
He remembered the market smells, his first time in this small country, right in the heart of Africa, practically sitting on the equator. The smell of mildew, of charcoal-burned meat, of old sweat, tobacco and fruit rind. He remembered the terra cotta hills looming large from where he'd stood, the rooftops of palm and thatch. He remembered the piercing Rasta music. Now he had a daughter. He felt propelled like a chord sprung from a steel guitar."