Memoir of a Painted Woman I have done a lot of brave things in my life: I’ve publicly embarrassed myself reading my bad teenage poetry to thousands of people, I’ve traveled to countries where I did not speak the language, I’ve even spun fire (aka poi) but what I did last
The Old Man and The Play “We’re going to be neighbors,” a white haired man said to me in the balcony of the Old Vic Theatre. He took off his tweed coat and draped it on the back of his chair next to mine. I smiled politely and nodded at
In an effort to get my writing into the public realm, I’m going to post an essay or a story every Tuesday on this site. So please subscribe, bookmark, or check back here once a week for a new story from moi. My first story is a tad lengthy for
Sara Bynoe 