
The Art of Omission
“Go!” Andrew yelled from behind me, pushing, with all his force, against my back. We were nearing the top of the volcano we’d begun hiking six hours before…
Read More“Go!” Andrew yelled from behind me, pushing, with all his force, against my back. We were nearing the top of the volcano we’d begun hiking six hours before…
Read MoreToday, September 6, 2012, we at Vela celebrate the first anniversary of the magazine.There is much to come, but before we get to all of…
Read MoreI’d known Jane less than 24 hours when she told me a secret she’d been carrying around for months.
Read MoreThe day’s heat had worn off by the time my husband was heading back to the barracks, and my bare legs were covered in goose bumps.
Read MoreThea and I were still bleary-eyed when the sun began to rise behind Mount Tamalpais. The day’s first light was small and self-contained…
Read MoreThe sun was at its highest when we reached the isolated beach at the northern end of Bunaken Island.
Read MoreThe year I moved back home to California—the year I got sick and resigned, more or less, from life altogether—I had, for the first few months, traveling dreams…
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