Huizipotakl, the Sun god, is slowly rising behind the mountaintops. His light is shimmering against the gentle lake waters before you. There are trees as far as the eye can see, and the chirping of birds dominates the soundscape. Tonight, you will once again sleep amongst the stars. The sun is bright, but it is …
The thin, alpine air rushes between the two towering mountains dominating the horizon; whipping past you, biting your skin and icing your bones. When you’re not freezing where you stand, you’re hearing and seeing ghosts; worried that a band of barbarous, war mongering Gauls — eager to plunge their swords into any chest that wanders …
Near the banks of the river, mosquitoes swarm, flying about your head, threatening to plunge into your skin. Standing where the slow slope of your eight-acre farm meets the Allegheny River, your eyes pass over the buildings your neighbors call home, searching. Your view of town — which, in the next few years, will be …
Benjamin Alsop breathed in the thick, wet, South Carolinian air. It was so heavy he could almost reach out and grab it. His body was covered in sweat, and it made the scratchy wool of his uniform rub angrily against his skin. Everything was sticky. Each step forward on the march was more difficult than …
It’s September 3rd, 1939. The late summer sun is making one of its final descents, but the air remains heavy and warm. You’re sitting at the kitchen table, reading the Sunday Times. Your wife, Caroline, is in the kitchen, preparing the Sunday meal. Your three sons are on the street below, playing. There was a …
The blazing South Carolinian sun beats down on your lash-scarred back. It’s noon, and the promise of shade and rest is hours away. You have little idea what day it is. Nor does it matter. It’s hot. It was hot yesterday. It will be hot tomorrow. There is less cotton clinging to the sharp plants …