9am to 9pm; Anacortes to the San Juan Islands and back. The weather is turning and so are the tides. When I’m wary of the waves I remember that the destination is fixed. And that the waves are what color the experience.
I saw red, but behind the treeline. Now I’ve seen the sun rise bright and humble and I’ve seen it set, pulsating and vindictive. All of this on a southbound train (inside lights dimmed), embedded in and running through the northeastern body of this country. While I watch through the windows I imagine that theContinue reading
I have been or felt alone