The building was once a wood shed. Now three logs smolder in the middle of the dirt floor. An old trash can lid sits on top of the cottonwood, pushing the smoke out to the corners of the building. Red embers softly glow and crackle, carving out the undersides of the wood. Dark poles … Continue reading »
The Rio Xingu and the Belo Monte Dam
I pressed the headphones as close to my ears as possible, trying to make out the name of the town. Sweat dripped down my face and the ants started to bite my feet. A skype connection from the middle of the Bolivian jungle only goes so far. When I disconnected from the phone call ten … Continue reading »

