Walden & Wind Turbines
The whole thing was a real exercise in accelerated bildungsroman.
The whole thing was a real exercise in accelerated bildungsroman.
I chalked it up to my self-control, which crumbles under the doldrums of summer—I could no longer resist the siren call of romance novels.
The days don’t vary much, and nobody minds.
“I’m actually on a connecting flight, traveling to a corn hole tournament. It’s a pretty big deal,” the man in the seat behind me announced.
But after a few more minutes of walking, I saw it: the view from the top—the mountains that dropped into the sea, the trees already changing into their fall garments, the ocean fading into the sky.
Comfort is a much needed salve, and respite for the parched and thirsty, but it’s good to remember we can also drown.