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We're meant to be cleaning. The old house is thick with dust and jammed with clutter; in this bedroom you can barely reach the canopy bed and she soon stumbles over a stack of Daily Telegraph's from the 1970s.

"You're not wearing very sensible shoes," I point out,(more)
It's raining in the early afternoon. Dense jungle teeming with life now soggy. I am alone here under a roof of sticks and straw.

But this is not a sad time, not for me. I love the rain and I love this temporary home. My gracious hosts will(more)
Sometimes, Emily Godwin wonders what Valca and Head would have made of modern vanships. It would be strange, she decides, for them to fly the Grand Stream without the wind whipping across their faces, without the roar in their ears promising threats of roiling thunder. She wonders if Valca(more)
The quarters are engulfed in shadow. I look from a window at the immense stretch of cobblestone I'll have to traverse in order to follow the instructions I was given.  

Two things can make a large yard become immense: having to cross it unseen, and doing that unde(more)
I sat in a hammock in the northwoods of Wisconsin.

Music was flowing through my headphones, mingling with the smoke swirling around the campsite. My immediate area was pierced by brilliant sunbeams, streaming down through an emerald canopy of ash and oak.

It was summer, I w(more)
For anyone who has never been in the jungle, let me tell you that it is different than any other place in the world. The jungle is mysterious and magical, and holds secrets you would only find in your wildest dreams. Haven't you ever wondered why treasure hunters always(more)
"I want to get out of here", you tell me, unblinking into white sun as we sit in your porch. The jeans you have hacked into shorts are unraveling a thread at a time and your cotton shirt pastes itself in an arc down your back. We are in(more)