Showing posts with the label MilitaryShow all
A Son’s Farewell from a German Payphone - 1990
Germany in August smelled like wet stone and cigarettes, the kind of damp that slips down your collar and stays. Even the light looked tired.
After the Names Are Said
I didn't come back with anything to teach. The stories people want move too cleanly - they end with meaning, or at least with order.
