By Elika Khosravani It is spring again and everyone is day-dreaming about falling in love again. Again. And again and again and again, until it finally sticks. So my mind, naturally, is also turned towards love. To be in love, I imagine, must feel like a lighthouse. A crumbling column on a crag, dangling delicately over the frothing sea. A lonely boat, guided by a single lantern and a ramshackled anchor, hesitantly heads toward the shoreline, toward the red and white tower, a

By Elika Khosravani I will begin by saying that Every Lady Sings The Blues. It is a terrible hue, a blue of utter pain. Coiled into a...

By Elika Khosravani Illustration by Etta Lund high in this papal chair, blessing zealous crowds,  white knuckled with the strained ...