• Of a Feather

    25 days ago - By Nowhere

    Archipelagos, sunburnt Danes, liquid dust, the weirdly awkward, mellocos , rattletrap cars, crater lakes, Midwestern cold, night vision, blue-footed boobies & un-pink flamingos.
    W e flew the domestic airline, complete with ice-less, fizz-less cola, warm and flat, to a tiny airport on one of the islands, built by the US during World War II. “Is it safe?” my father wanted to know, worrying about that little plane and the hijackers we'd heard so much about, or maybe faulty maintenance, but my mother assured him no plane full of wealthy foreigners was going anywhere untoward, and it was...
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