When you’re shipwrecked and cannot die, the page of your book never turns. You live one endless day of saltwater, wind, and the veiny red behind closed eyelids. The water will not burn your tongue nor your guts, but neither
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Bio-elegance
The microbial children squealed as the otter submarine torpedoed through the river. Older members of the bacterial colony were perhaps more sedate, but no less enthused with the practiced tumbles and breakneck twirls of their new host. Most of them
The Stories of Harpies and Humanity
Thirty miles outside of Crescent City, we ran out of gas. The van had been sputtering for the past 400 miles, and I recognized imminent engine failure. We stepped out, stretched, and wandered the edge of the forest for a