Due to the site's crash, I've had to re-publish ten of my articles. Sorry for any inconvenience. Thank you. A good cell, I’d say. 10 foot by 12 foot with high walls. Colors are cream. A red floor of cement lays beneath. Most of the paint-chips and stains are scattered here, my bare feet careful for leftover remnants. Yet with each step, the surface is cool—refreshing. There is a blue pad for resting, which lays on an elevated step; a blanket to the side; and a space-age aluminum toilet is off to the corner. Nearest is the door—a thick steel mass [View Full Entry]

---

---

Due to Travelblog's system failure, this article had to be re-published. Apologies, apologies... and Hi from London Blind History Ireland’s warm apple pie with a dollop of fresh cream was Belfast. I went into the city ignorant. I couldn’t recall any knowledge, any history or awareness except snippets of conflict and violence. Nothing in my textbook days could inform me of the current issues within the region. I remember the stress on American history… and American history. I remember creating colorful cornucopias around meals with friendly, newly arrived [View Full Entry]

---

---

Due to Travelblog's system failure... yes... I said it before, I lost ten articles. So I'm re-publishing them and I'm sorry for filling your mailbox. If you haven't read them, here they are again, and enjoy. Sorry for the inconvenience, my friends. Footprints & Our Path Eighty-six days—slowly, the days pass, ticking down as we cross the map with our footprints. Each town and city turns into a refuge from the elements, providing a kitchen for food and a roof for shelter. Our route covers the following: Dublin - Swords Swords - Balbriggan Balbriggan - Droghed [View Full Entry]

---

---

Due to Travelblog.org's site crash, the memory of this blog was lost and had to be re-published. Apologies for the missing material and all articles will be up in time Day One’s Nuclear Resolution Another Sunday, another city—the highlife of Dublin deep in the Temple Bar district of an old city—and another Irish spring day, south within the Republic of Ireland. A layer of clouds hid the morning sun with a chilled line of pavement beneath our feet. As dawn’s stiffness flexed its weary muscles, the sound of cracking toes echoed down the empty sp [View Full Entry]

---

---

Due to Travelblog's system failure, ten articles were lost and will be re-published. Sorry for the filling of your mailbox... but... drink your urine: Praise be to the body and its' glory! A chilly winter day called us out: two friends coming together on another adventure. Yes, we laughed. We laughed wondering what the hell we were doing at five in the morning driving for the coast. With surfboards packed and wetsuits folded, we picked up our Nalgene bottles of hot tea and drank; warming our bloodstreams, busying our kidneys, filling our bladders. Soon we would need to empty the [View Full Entry]

---

---

Due to TravelBlog's memory failure and crash, this article had to be re-published. Sorry for any inconvenience. The End & The Beginning Lying on his back, yet he didn’t know it. He didn’t know he was that turtle, tipped over on his own shell, by his own shell. His mother looked down at him, not knowing what to do, what to say, except the family proverb: “Perry, you don’t have a pot to piss in.” With a bad back, handfuls of Advil, disgruntled relationships, heavy debts, and not a hand on the twig to snap the curse of his current predicament, [View Full Entry]

---

---

Due to Travelblog.org's memory failure, this article had to be re-published. I rose from my evening’s indulgence. Pushing pause, I passed through the dark room, glowing with a crystal glare, and entered the kitchen. Flicking on the lights, white recessed cans struck their yellow casts onto shadows with a soft incandescence, like a candle on a corner bookshelf. I reached the pantry, opened its wooden doors and pulled down two contents. One was a can of Equal Exchange Organic Hot Cocoa. The other was a plastic bag of Western Family Marshmallows—jumbo. Ou [View Full Entry]

---

---

Spitting heat upon pale skin. Dust swirls, thick and ominous like mountainous fog, yet there is little silence and zero solitude unlike the celestial palaces where the clouds’ nebulous movements waver. Where a hermit might dwell, there doesn’t exist this exhaustion, this thumping surge of sprawling land and sea convergence. It’s bright and hot, alighting the nonexistent patterns as people and their many motors crush upon the littorals of humanity and culture—their culture. It is their land; the noise and debris, the rising dust-clouds into the [View Full Entry]

---

---

"If there's a fork in the road, take it." Nine years old and probably, if not certainly, this was one of the strangest, most peculiar phrases I heard. A fork in the road? And what about a spoon? Dirty napkins? Why not, as the man said…pick it up! The quote was read to me out of a book written by Pat Riley (one of the top ten NBA coaches of all-time according to NBA.com) entitled The Winner Within. He was older. I was nine. And at nine years old, I hadn't the slightest, simplest clue as for the significance behi [View Full Entry]

---

---

I walk the streets of the city. I’m traveling, yet I’m stationed within a foreign land, one I’ve become accustomed to for the last three months. Above me, in usual winter fashion, the sky is gray, dark with threatening rain. But the people are out, for it’s after noon as the weekend begins. Here, after the social nights of Friday, the parisien rises to find a bistrot among family and friends. Stomachs rumble with the digest of the previous evening’s soirée. As I take my wandering path through Paris, I stare through the plumes of condensation ascending fro [View Full Entry]

---

---