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"Nonfiction" Chapters (3/6)
Don't Forget 1993
Chapter 13 of Nomad Life
“Good luck,” the customs agent croaked, handing Shelby our passports through the car window. He had bushy, black eyebrows and a protruding chin. Skutull sat in the back, leaning his entire body against the seat. His eyes mindlessly tracked the customs agent without moving his head. He looked bored out of his mind...
If You Stare at the Stars, You'll Step in Shit
Chapter 12 of Nomad Life
Rain fell from the night sky—more than a spittle, but less than a downpour—adding volume to the streams already flowing through the streets of Ljubljana. We stood under an awning at the train station, debating whether we should brave the 15-minute walk to our apartment or take a cab. I knew the city well and was confident I could route us...
The City of Dragons
Chapter 11 of Nomad Life
Rain fell from the night sky—more than a spittle, but less than a downpour—adding volume to the streams already flowing through the streets of Ljubljana. We stood under an awning at the train station, debating whether we should brave the 15-minute walk to our apartment or take a cab. I knew the city well and was confident I could route us...
Ruth's Haus
Chapter 10 of Nomad Life
I drank our remaining oat milk from the carton while looking out over the Main River in Frankfurt one last time. The sunrise was orange and already bikers were funneling onto the river path below. The main train station was a fifteen-minute drive from our apartment. We still had forty-five minutes until...
Why I Write
Chapter 2 of Lost in a Sea of Words
One of my favorite quotes on writing is by Ernest Hemingway: “All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.” I struggled to pitch both my newsletter and my writing for almost a year. What you’re reading is easily the third or fourth iteration, if not the fifth or sixth.
Mittel-Gründau
Chapter 9 of Nomad Life
We called a studio apartment in Frankfurt home for our first eight days abroad. It was a corner unit on the fifth floor of a ten-story building and looked out over the winding Main River in one direction and toward downtown Frankfurt’s skyscrapers in the other. Half-a-dozen stone bridges crossed the waterway, which I'm sure is small by global standards, but is larger than any river back in Colorado.