Reflections

August 7, 2011

We carry our histories like lanterns, swinging them against the dark to see if the path ahead still holds the shape of...

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August 6, 2011

In the high, thin air of the mountains, the world often loses its saturation. The mist rolls in, turning the landscape into...

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August 6, 2011

The smell of brine always clings to the back of my throat, a sharp, metallic reminder of the tide. I remember standing...

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