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About Kimberley

So we talk—me leanin’ on a lamppost, her smokin’ a fag. “Memory is a curse,” I say, nickin’ from the movie. She nods, like she gets it. Life’s beaten her down, but she’s still kickin’. I exagerate in my head—she’s a femme fatale, playin’ me like a fiddle. Ha! As if. Truth is, she’s just tryin’ to eat.

Intimacy Moons, various locations across the Caribbean

retreat is quirky, zany, and just a pinch unpredictable. I mean, like, sometimes I run into my old pals at the corner of Twisty Bend, and we yap about the good ol’ days, share insider spa secrets, and sometimes even reminisce over dusty vinyl records on street corners, thinkin’ “Oh my gawd, can you believe it?”

No retreat on Sudan fuel price rise