The dark side of nomadicy.Read More
I didn’t see this coming…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
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 Sno Bowl Hostel at the Summit of the Washington Wilderness.Read More
"You most re-membur"—the Ugandan poet bade us in clipped, beautiful accents and round tones—"thet fleepping on deh light, duz knot ex-ting-gwish deh darknis; deh darknis ez oil-ways wid us, wai-ting, be-neat deh light, for deh mo-mint deh sweetch ez fleepped ah-gin. Four dis ree-sun, we most keep are eyez o-pahned and deh light ahn."
The room was quiet as she paused and met our gaze; her sharp chin tipped up with conviction of her words.Read More
as in love or sleep
them to their way
clear in the ancient faith:
what we need is here.
The slippery slope that turned two semi-respectable, tax-paying citizens into minimalists, and then, nomads.Read More