When we arrived at our Airbnb in Oaxaca, the take-one-leave-one bookshelf proffered a title I couldn’t resist: Oliver Sacks’ Oaxaca Journal. I don’t think I’ve ever read a complete book by Sacks, but I read many of his articles in the New Yorker, with special interest in his memoir-ish pieces about his exploration of psychedelics and motorcycles (he was quietly gay and a kind of leather queen).
I'm off to Oaxaca on Wednesday and had lunch once with a friend and Oliver Sacks so this is perfect timing!