The right amount of sadness

I spend nights alone, in a hotel room.  Sometimes in a cabin in the mountains. The cabin in the mountains, they’ve done up so that it’s covered in deer prints and wolf prints and bear prints and plaid.  Enamel crockery.  Indoor hanging vines.  Big picture window, so I can stand naked and cry before the …

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The things we seek…

I’m sitting at a picnic bench, boiling quinoa, because that’s the hipster thing to do. Also, I’m a millennial, so I might as well act the part. A patch nosed snake slithers by and, despite the lack of venom, I get a funny feeling running up the back of my spine. It doesn’t help that …

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Fear tastes different in the wild.

The past few days, I hiked the Backbone Trail.  Not all 67 miles, but 37, which is enough if you ask me.  And the whole point of this blog is to catalog my travels and sometimes, those travels aren’t so grand. In fact, they can be pretty pathetic. Because here’s the deal: I cried. I …

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