I sat naked on a rock. The high mountain stream cut a rough channel, collecting in a pool above a small waterfall.
browsing archive: featuredwriting6
During our morning walk, my dog finds a dead bird or chipmunk rotting under a pile of leaves. I pretend I’m OK
By late August, it was clear my zucchini was doomed. So was the cucumber. The drought had not been kind to these
When insomnia visits, I find myself numbering wandering things: sand, pollen, electrons, wildebeests, Aristotelian wombs. Or Shelley walking the Alpine glaciers, unnerved
They canceled school due to the treacherous ice and sleet. In the morning, I listened as the flurries and flecks of hail
What does it mean to construct digital worlds while the actual world is crumbling before our eyes? —Jenny Odell, How To Do
July smothered the city, suffocating the prospect of any outdoor activity conducted between sunrise and sunset. Air conditioners hummed outside apartment windows