Melanie Maure

The morning sun is bright on my cracked windshield. The temperature is a bit of summer perfection, the windows are down. As I turn onto the highway headed to teach a weekly yoga journey, my intention ...

I assume he’s homeless. I assume he’s needy. I assume he’s broken. All these blades of assumption I use to carve the man crouching in the sun, a cardboard litre of Minute Maid Orange juice on the side...

She lowers her copy of 'The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks' and sees I am daunted, lost, nervous, and facing the spiky shrew that is my own pride. She smiles at me. It is the direct look-you-in-the-...

It's all-new. And so damn familiar. The sun warms my back, a trickle of well-earned sweat runs the ladder of my spine. When it comes to sport climbing I am still a fetus in terms of experience. I am s...