Driftwood, scarred from fire. Beached. A wandering soul, tucked in the sand. Nearby. Fiery hair gently clinging to the grain of the wood.

[Read more →]

The address of the bus company in New York City Chinatown that was to take us to Washington, D.C. turned out to be a small cafe. The guy inside was very cheerful but didn’t speak any English and had no clue what we were looking for. We came to the Chinatown by 10 pm on [...]

[Read more →]