There were people(s) who knew intimately the spirit of the land because it was inside them. They were not separate from the beauty or terror of nature but revered it. Their stories have been rewritten, if not entirely erased but there are vestiges left behind. They are still with us. It is not yet too late.
The freedom I feel while waiting for the bus. I smile and take note. It reminds me of the color mustard and how I wore it for more than a year, strapped to my back, waiting and smoking and leaving and, saying hello again and again.
“My love for you gives me wings. That is all. My love for you is a four leaf clover I carry in my back pocket when I need luck and guts. When…
Notes from *Iceland, August 18, 2018 Sitting in the airport, listening to Sigur Rós and a reading a book, “The Almost Nearly Perfect People,” feeling quite the same. This moment is almost, nearly…
Are you looking for an adventure in San Diego where you can get off the beaten path and explore more of this city in southern California? If so, keep reading, and you’ll…
“You can pre-board with your leg like that,” a kind, gray haired flight attendant bends down, gesturing to the ungainly boot I’m wearing on my left leg, a brace for a recent…