The moist air is already sticking to your arms at 7:00 AM, the pores in your armpits twitching like a horse in a starting gate.
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End of Empire

The moist air is already sticking to your arms at 7:00 AM, the pores in your armpits twitching like a horse in a starting gate.
As the details around the insurrection settled into my chest like a bad cold, I realized it had shattered my belief that regardless of our political leanings, we were all Americans who held some things sacred.
The American Dream is alive and well just around the corner, a short walk from Trouts Farm.
Nineteen days into voluntary isolation, I reach to the back of the freezer for some ginger and discover two bags of sweet pepper, one green, and one red. It’s Christmas! Like many trapped in this stagnant lull, I have put on some weight. The more I focus on making do, the faster I eat down […]
History is not written by losers, but the losers never forget.