I was five or maybe six the first time I tasted chiles, and it changed what I thought it meant to be human. We were at La Parillia Suiza. I asked to try the salsa, and my mother said yes, and I dipped a freshly fried tortilla chip into the pale green tomatillo one. Capsaicin exploded through my mouth, hot and painful. I yelped.
Read MoreI met Victor Ceballos while volunteering at No More Deaths’ humanitarian aid camp along the US-Mexico border in 2014, but it wasn’t until recently that I had the opportunity to sit down with the gardener and community organizer to learn more about his work. Victor’s infectious enthusiasm for self-watering containers and vermicompost systems, coupled with his years working with Tucson-based organizations Tierra y Libertad and No More Deaths, made for an illuminating, often hopeful conversation.
Read MoreFor most of my life, my New Year’s resolutions involved taking up less space. This would be the year I would run for five hours every day between twice daily pilates and yoga sessions until I barely existed. Then, maybe, I would deserve to exist. I would deserve to exist in the life of a man I was finally skinny enough to be loved by.
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