The dark side of nomadicy.Read More
I didn’t see this coming…Read More
Touring the oldest vineyard in South America.Read More
Pink dolphins, Monsoons, and the Master of the Amazon.Read More
When the Universe bring you to the edge, grab a board.Read More
I've been here two weeks now, back in this city we used to call home—this time just long enough to pack. Things feel the same here, and so different. There’s a vine of ivy wrapping around the wire outside the house, climbing straight up the line, beautifully silhouetted against the light morning sky. The ivy was still green when I came into town, still fresh, still holding life within, despite being severed from the earth.
I'm leaving tomorrow, which is good, because there are only two creamers left. Funny—I didn't plan it that way.Read More
One tent. Two travelers. Six states. Fifty-two nights.Read More
They came with their oxygen tanks, their extra cardigans, and their signs. Some were wheeled out, and some shuffled slowly with the aid of walkers to sit heavily in the chairs the young people had set up for them minutes earlier on the corner of Miller and Camino Alto. Every Friday afternoon at four found them here—protesting faithfully for peace in the California sunshine. Most of them had started in the sixties, during Vietnam, and had been protesting ever since...Read More
The Spectacle of TimeRead More
The Sno Bowl Hostel at the Summit of the Washington Wilderness.Read More
Where are we going? I ask as the cold ocean wind whips through my jacket.
Almost there! She laughs mysteriously, and continues. I follow her footprints down the coastline until she stops expectantly before a group of large boulders, half immersed by the sea...