At Home, in Exile

  Across a courtyard cradled by austere mountains, a dim passageway leads to an ancient room dank with whispered prayers. Dull drumbeats and the muttering of a sleepy eyed lama lull the flame of the lone...

In Between-ness

  Border towns. There's something about them. You can smell the acrid impermanence in their dust. Life seems to be getting ready, always, for something, far away. The milling crowd, do they know where...