There should’ve been a sign at the beginning.
Right at the trailhead — right when it was do or die time — the sign should’ve said something like “WARNING:Middle-aged Suburban Guys Should Probably Stay Back In The Gift Shop.”
The Spiritual Wanderer
There should’ve been a sign at the beginning.
Right at the trailhead — right when it was do or die time — the sign should’ve said something like “WARNING:Middle-aged Suburban Guys Should Probably Stay Back In The Gift Shop.”
You’d think I would’ve gotten the memo.
Hiking a perilous trail (well, perilous to me) and surviving the journey, would alert some people to the fact that maybe sheer cliff walls and tight rock tunnel passageways might be better left to other, more intrepid national park visitors. Especially since I’ve just miraculously reached the end of that trail before lunchtime. Read More…
“That’s the smell of Night Jasmine,” the tarot card reader told us. “Or maybe it’s Frangipani; they both bloom in the evening.”
The Gulf breeze carried the scent away, playfully departing as quickly as it arrived. Replacing the smell was the sound of a dozen weekend gin joints pounding out the pulsing beat of live bands, DJs and the crowded roar of revelers celebrating another successful sunset. Read More…
We first spoke via satellite.
Me — a fresh out of college newbie photographer with no prospects — him, a seasoned professional from New York City, now helming a small photo staff up north in Michigan. Read More…