Outside some white patches of the unreasonable, unseasonable snow persisted. Wet and cold, leaves plummeted down like lumps of plutonium. Not Robert Frost swirling, but more like Charles Bukowski depression poetry. Raking them would be like pulling up iron ore. And what about my regular fishing trips to Central and South America? Business was too…
Business had been good since moving into these new offices. So good, in fact, it was…dictatorial. I sat there alone. It was getting late with work still piled on the desktop. My usual long-range fishing trips to Central and South America had been pushed back and back. Where had they gone? Modern clocks don’t tick…
We grow up with songs and poetry of plains, grasslands and mountains. But life teaches us that all rivers are storytellers. Guyana means “The Land of Many Rivers,” but the 630-mile-long Esseuino dominates one of Earth’s greatest regions of biodiversity. Portuguese, Spanish, French, British, Dutch The Essequino witnessed billowing sails upon Christopher Columbus’s third expedition…