Hands.

I was riding in an Uber in New Mexico and was struck by my drivers hands. She was about my age, straddling that line between her 40s and 50's. That age where your clothes or hair might not give away your age, but your face and hands sure do. She was listening to the local … Continue reading Hands.

2017.

I haven't written much this year. Historically, I write something that feels profound about my year sometime in December, and then January comes and wrecks it. I've had a string of rough starts to years, but January 2017 started quite lovely. By February we were back on our "well what strange twists will 2017 have … Continue reading 2017.