humanity

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

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 Colina5 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 Wherry5 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 Jackson5 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.
By Edie Meidav5 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 Fournier5 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 Mae5 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 5 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 Shaw5 years ago in Wander
Frankie's Plan
Frankie’s Plan Frankie was tired. Bone tired. She had pulled another double at the café yesterday, and her feet were still killing her. Today's shift promised to be busy. Frankie would have loved nothing more than to have two days in a row off of work. Like a normal weekend that normal people get every week! Wouldn’t that be awesome? She would never know. She couldn’t afford to have two days off every week! Certainly not weekend days. Those were the big tip days; there’s no way Frankie could miss weekend shifts and stick to the Plan.
By Sheila Dugan Jensen5 years ago in Wander
B 612
Once when I was six my grandfather told me a story about an adventurous Pilot whom, while stranded alone in the Sahara Desert, meets an extraordinary little fellow.
By J.M. MacDuff5 years ago in Wander
Possibilities
She found the pocket-sized book in her grandparent’s library. The term “library” loosely applied – the room had previously been a garage, converted to a bedroom where her parents slept when they visited. Three of the walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, stacked with books of an incongruous variety. Old, leather-bound religious texts sat next to Agatha Christie novels, and romance novels with covers containing beautiful women and men whose hair blew in the breeze. A perfect mix of her strict grandfather and fun-loving grandmother.
By Sarah Lustgarten 5 years ago in Wander
Lucky Day
Fraught with a case of the vapors after wandering drunk I stumbled upon a local cinema. Surely the cooling systems will provide adequate relief from this sweltering heat I thought. I notice the ticket booth is stationed outside and quite a distance from the actual entrance. No fear, I'm not that sweaty and this theater should be empty enough to not force a poor soul upon my saddening aroma. As I approach the ticket island, hoards of fellow moviegoers race in front of me to form a queue. Blast, the afternoon sun burns with the might of a thousand magnifying glasses stacked one atop another blazing down upon my face.
By Luis Jimenez5 years ago in Wander