I exhale, the smoke reaches out grasping at invisible treasures. The tendril stretches upward, trying to grab at heaven. The movement is enthralling, like a dancer on stage. I watch her twist and twirl as she slowly dissipates and becomes one with the air. A temporary apparition keeping me company one moment, gone the next. Waiting on each breath for its short and diminished existence. Moving from one plane of existence to the next. I run my hand through the smoke and watch it twist through my digits. Like a serpent it playfully weaves through my hand trying to find the quickest way upward. It is a fitting metaphor; life is short, so play while you still can… read more >
Faith Roswell’s Wasteland Weekend
As a Wasteland Warrior, Faith Roswell is no stranger to the European post-apocalyptic scene. But as an established travel blogger, she’s also no stranger to
