Watching the movie Rams almost a decade ago, Magellan and I didn’t know that one day our hiking boots would trod upon the mud and
“Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all” Forget the Gregorian calendar. For as long as
On every holiday we’ve taken, there comes a time, usually midway through the trip, when I think to myself, “I wish I was at home.”
Across the street from us is the Maritime Museum. Thanks to its harbour master, for the first time in the twenty years we’ve lived here
In Bhutan in the back seat of a Santa Fe SUV, our bodies gently swayed from side to side, kneaded by road bumps. “Massage roads,”
No, this blog is not about rock ’n roll fans screaming their heads off when the Beatles broke into “Oh yeah I’ll, tell you something,
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