humanity

If nothing else, travel opens your eyes to the colorful quilt that is humankind.

Desert Riches
When Julie had her epiphany, she was at the end of her rope. As in quite literally at the end of her rope, hanging off the side of a cliff somewhere in the middle of the desert, with no one else around for hundreds of miles. She had hiked for three days to get to where she was now, hanging from a dry plateau full of nothing but red rocks and skeletons of sage brush, a dried-up ancient seabed carved through by rivers a thousand feet below. The late winter sun glowed golden far off on the horizon behind her, setting the landscape below and the cliff face inches from her nose ablaze in light and shadow, red rock blooming under the day’s last light. Her head swam with exhaustion and dehydration. For a moment she thought she could see them, the ancient sea creatures that had once swum far below, monstrous shadows weaving in the deep.
By Lisa Caruana6 years ago in Wander
The Telltale of the Unseen Who Sees
His body ached. Dust was still settling. The battle had been somewhat fierce. They had to chase whoever wasn’t dead. As Alistar sat to eat his bread and drink water, the sun smoldered intensely. He broke bread, wiped sweat from his brow, and wondered. Underneath some stubble there lie a black book. He picked it up. The pages were aged and some water damaged. There were words in a native language he could not decipher.
By Jerusalem Biangco6 years ago in Wander
Making History
No, you were not nervous. Because to say that you were nervous would be an understatement. You were downright petrified. You looked at the little black notebook clenched tightly in your hands. You wondered if it was too late to back out now.
By AY6 years ago in Wander
No Time Left
Ruby I walked the beach as the wind raged around me, needing this moment. I hadn’t been home to Oregon in a few years, and coming back for Seth’s funeral was almost impossible to believe. My blonde hair wrapped around my throat as I reached for it, hearing a voice above the wind. I turned to see Layla walking towards me, wrapped in a jacket with a red hat pulled over her green hair.
By Jennwrites6 years ago in Wander
The Venezuelan Eclipse
So many years had passed since the country had been fixed that the thought of what it had been seemed like a nightmare that had never occurred.
By Felipe Colina6 years ago in Wander
La Última Pintura
The afternoon sunlight hits the sea just right. A flock of seagulls soar effortlessly through the warm, salty air. Grace enjoys painting just as her mother did before recently passing away. The gleaming sea and its soft, undulating waves serve as an inspiring backdrop for Grace as she begins to paint a portrait of her mother on this very beach in Manzanillo, Colombia.
By Jessica Wherry6 years ago in Wander
The Black Experience
Milan, Italy October 27, 1997 To my granddaughter, There is richness in our history. This I want you to know. Do not let anyone look down on your or make you feel less because of your skin color. You are beautiful. You are intelligent. Your skin radiates with brilliance, and from your mind flows excellence.
By Margaree Jackson6 years ago in Wander
You
Tasha will not realize until far on the other side of life how the morning of the bikes will dismember everything. Starting horribly, the day only gets worse. The job Tash set herself in the refugee camp: she goes about getting everyone’s stories so she can write strong letters for people to use at important agencies.
By Edie Meidav6 years ago in Wander
Ripples Upon the Mountain
There, nestled in a mountain range of eternal awe, lies a realm out of time, hidden shyly from the outside world by a shroud of billowing clouds. A lush landscape to breathe in at a pace of personal choosing.
By David Fournier6 years ago in Wander
Savannah and the Notebook
Savannah stepped off the bus, shivering. “LAST STOP!” The gruff, bearded bus driver hollered, rather unnecessarily, Savannah thought. The other two passengers de-boarded behind her, a tall, John Wayne-esque aging cowboy with a white mustache, faded cowboy hat and “denim tuxedo” of a pearl-snap long-sleeved shirt, brass belt buckle and dark jeans. Cowboy boots, pointy, of course, Savannah thought. She always took notice of people’s shoes. You can tell a lot about people by their shoes. The other passenger made his way off the bus, also slowly, a portly man in his 30s, with dark hair, black jeans and black Metallica shirt. Metallica and a denim tuxedo, classic Wyoming, Savannah thought. He was wearing tennis shoes that had probably once been white, now rust-colored from the “red dirt” that permeated everywhere, covered everything in this part of Wyoming.
By Kaley Mae6 years ago in Wander
razor sharp thunderstorms
The Day I Came to LA the thunderstorms were so ferocious our plane was grounded. Our checked baggage was returned to us after eleven hours of standing by for the opportunity to take off. We were instructed to come back the following day in hopes of the unG-dly weather subsiding. My waterlogged suitcases weighed a ton. Everything inside was drenched and funky. I spent the next eleven hours doing laundry and drying out the suitcases. Then I repacked, reboarded and took off for LA. Not once did I question whether I was being given the most blatant omen known to man – torrential downpour. Maybe LA was not the place for me but I was two months past my eighteenth birthday and G-d himself couldn’t stop me. An uneven mix of headstrong, stubborn and razor sharp made me a danger to mostly myself. But I was off and that was that.
By Laura 6 years ago in Wander
Bucket List
Tim sat back in a weathered camping chair. The fire crackled, casting shadows onto the shoreline dancing shapes onto the sand. The flickering light ebbing towards the waning tide. The orange and red hues of the sunset bled into the horizon as Tim fumbled through his olive Patagonia duffle bag by his side.
By Ian Shaw6 years ago in Wander