My Body is a Book

“My body is like a book that people pass around to make their research,” Silvia wrote one day.

Follow me on Substack at Break Free with Karen Hunt

writing free of censorship If you are interested in reading more of my writing in a more writerly friendly format, please check out at Break Free with Karen Hunt (substack.com) Here is an example of my latest writing The Problem of Faith – Break Free with Karen Hunt (substack.com) about my childhood experiences with my […]

November 8, 2016–A Night of Nightmares and Miracles

For Silvia Sanchez and her family, this night meant more than all the other nights before it and all the nights to come after. And it had nothing to do with who became president. This was the night Silvia Sanchez returned home after more than twenty years in prison.

The Power of Words

I well remember walking out from that last board meeting in a high rise in Century City, and taking the elevator down to the street. When I reached the bottom floor and went outside, I looked back up at where I had been. I would never reach those heights again and it didn’t matter. I felt an incredible weight lifting from my shoulders. I had done what I knew was right. I was free.

Happily Slipping into Our Straight Jackets

We are slaves to the pharmaceutical companies and they like it that way. Billions of dollars are at stake. This pandemic has given mega companies, in collusion with government, a pathway to increased control over every aspect of our lives. We know that drugs are a plague. Yet, just like tobacco use, just like drinking that poison called Coca Cola, we keep on “chasing the dragon.”

This Game of Life, Chapter 1 of A Dangerous Woman

The murder happened by the water. Silvia knew who was responsible: Gerardo, the man of her dreams, her only love, the one who made her feel like she was the luckiest girl on earth.

The Game of Life

I start here, on the night of November 6, 2016, the night Donald Trump became president. That night will forever be imprinted on my brain, driving from my home in Woodland Hills to Silvia’s sister’s house in Fontana. Fires blazed on the skyline. Police cars raced in the opposite direction on the freeway, sirens blaring, lights flashing. The country was on the verge of chaos, angered that this orange man bad had been elected, or so it seemed he would be.