The bistro is always full with what I’ve come to call Refugee Tourists: men and women of a certain age who look to be fleeing from highways, motels, retirement homes, fast food, and who knows, maybe even from Donald Trump.
The bistro is always full with what I’ve come to call Refugee Tourists: men and women of a certain age who look to be fleeing from highways, motels, retirement homes, fast food, and who knows, maybe even from Donald Trump.
In Writing, New Mexico Sugar Nymphs The New York Review of Books