Just because you imagine yourself doing something and enjoy the way it makes you feel, doesn’t mean you actually want to do it.
Miami International Airport isn’t exactly a tranquil space on a normal day—if there’s such a thing as a normal day at MIA.
I did everything I could to distract Lucille Evans from noticing the bloody footprint.
“Since death is certain, but the time of death is uncertain, what is the most important thing?” — PEMA CHÖDRÖN
Dana Cordell recently told me an anecdote about an eco-village in Sweden with urine-diverting composting toilets.
Had the young woman at the bar been slightly more attractive, Geoff Noonan might have smelled a trap.
The aging captain, gray at the temples now, had steered the great ship Glory for many years, and was ready to retire.
It is, Roy thinks, perfect. Kismet, serendipity, destiny, happenstance; call it what you will.
Primitive technology is the practice of making tools, structures, textiles, and clothing using only natural materials found in the wild.
In June 1885, three Frenchmen arrived in London. One was a Prince, one was a Count, and the third was a commoner with an Italian surname.
There’s a story from World War I, perhaps apocryphal, but possibly true, that sums up Australia’s love of gambling.
You Verres will plead that your statues and pictures have adorned the city and the forum of the people of Rome …
Through his periscope, Kapitän Hans Schultz watched the chaos aboard the schooner Carroll A. Deering and smiled.
Amma is walking along the promenade of the waterway that bisects her city, a few early morning barges cruise slowly by to her left is the nautical-themed footbridge with its deck-like walkway and sailing mast pylons
In the early afternoon on a Saturday in June, Jack Kennison put on his sunglasses, got into his sports car with the top down, strapped the seatbelt over his shoulder and across his large stomach, and drove to Portland.
Nan Appleby, waiting for the kettle to boil in the kitchen of her fifth-floor flat, observed the signs of weather.
It was a miserable mid-march afternoon, chill and sleeting, as John Sampson and I ran to the main gate of the Greensville Correctional Center, a hexagon-shaped high-security prison in the rural, southern part of the Commonwealth of Virginia.
“Voila!” Charlie spun the chair around and smiled into the mirror as she stood behind Meg.
Back in his den with the cocoa he settles into the beanbag chair bequeathed to him by a departing student the year before.
Here are some things I know about weight. A pound of feathers weighs as much as a pound of bricks, but a pound of bricks is easier to carry.
Well, here it is: the newest, bang-up-to-date edition of Up the Duff.