The stallion pounded the ground with its hooves in a wild gallop, its horsewoman leaning over its neck. With no saddle or bit, the mount flew free, its mane in the wind. Nighttime enveloped the world ... [+]
The stallion pounded the ground with its hooves in a wild gallop, its horsewoman leaning over its neck. With no saddle or bit, the mount flew free, its mane in the wind. Nighttime enveloped the world ... [+]
The black man who approached from the rear of the gathering at my father's burial looked to be one hundred years old. He was frail, but not bent. He walked haltingly, supported by two black ... [+]
window seat facing forward racing westward on rails; every twist a next vista the last passed pivots ... [+]