Reflections

August 22, 2017

I remember a baker in a small village outside of Florence who insisted that bread should never be carried in a bag....

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August 21, 2017

I remember a morning in the high country when the air was so thin it felt like breathing glass. I was walking...

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August 21, 2017

I keep a small, smooth river stone on my desk, worn down by years of being turned over in my palm. It...

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