humanity
If nothing else, travel opens your eyes to the colorful quilt that is humankind.
Where Blue Birds Fly. Second Place in Hometown Feature Challenge.
I was born in the 90's in a joint family of Dhaka city. If you are from Dhaka, you probably know what a rooftop is. It's theoretically almost always an empty corner on top of a building, but if you are truly from Dhaka, you know, it's so much more.
By Homayra Adiba5 years ago in Wander
Ferris Wheels
The one in London, for example. Or the one in Seattle. Or the one that's sitting behind the main street buildings of the small-town/suburb of my city here, at the far edge of the Rocky mountains. Sitting still and looking up at them like a relic in a junkyard. I guess the machine actually runs for local events. I just ran into it by accident. No idea if it's for sale, for keeps or if it runs.
By Joel Hageman5 years ago in Wander
Mikey’s Adventure
1/22/2021 for vocal.media Little Black Book “Hey Mom. How long are we going to have to stay here? It’s getting kind of boring and nobody wants to listen to my stories anymore.” Mikey sighed and looked his mom with a hopeful expression. “Well, we have to wait until we get the next deposit in the bank. We kind of ran short last month and had to play catch up this month. Can you be patient for another two weeks or so? I will figure out what we can do when we get the money and we also have two craft shows these next two weekends coming up.” “I guess I can. I will try to draw more pictures to sell. I think I have $28 dollars saved up.” Mikey was such a good kid. Sarah was twenty when she had him. His personality drew people in since he was tiny. He was still small for his age and his beautiful brown wavy hair always inspired complements.
By Marianne Taylor Johnson5 years ago in Wander
Home is You and I
Google says home is the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household, but that changed for me at the age of 16. I had to leave the people, places and the very things that I called home. Joy filled my heart at the prospect of being able to get a higher education. I packed my bags with things that would remind me of home in hopes to mask the pain my heart was also feeling.
By Akinsanya Grace5 years ago in Wander
El Chuco origins
I was going to write a story about how this whole world was my stomping grounds. Gaia is my home, but would not have enough to keep anyone’s interest in my story, because it’s everyother persons home as well. So to begin the roots of my origin,I come from a big small city nestled in the corner of Texas. When I tell anybody that I am from elpaso tx. I hear “hey I passed through there”, or “oh you mean Mexico”. And they go on about how they can see Mexico from the freeway, and ask if I was scared because the cartel. They seem to know not one thing of my hometown, except that there are a lot of drugs passing through. I can’t argue that one. When I think of my hometown I think of consistency, Chico tacos the place you ate at least once a week and played the jukebox, the star that guided you home from drunken nights in cuidad Juarez ,and the Chuco strangler.
By aysha valenzuela5 years ago in Wander
This Side of Time
Samantha’s diminutive young fingers sunk into the dark soil, plowing through the old oak leaves married with the dirt through time. Stopping she felt the burden of no memory of how she got here and most of all why she was digging in the ground for what seemed to a forest floor. The surround trees, told her that much. The moon, full tonight, gave all its light to tell her it was at least late autumn if not early winter, for the leaves were few on the slender oaks, but many on the ground. Though, the moon was ominous and the the trees talkative with their creaking sways to the night’s breeze, none of this felt threatening to Samantha. In fact, all of this sewn together felt more like — home. Oddly, even the winter air did not feel cold, if anything, she felt a sudden swell of warmth. Possibly from inside, she was unsure, she just knew felt a sense of comfort that, despite her lack of memory, seemed foreign to her recent past.
By Daniel Pierce5 years ago in Wander
Good Samaritans, even on a different continent
So, I'm going to start this off by saying this happened quite a few years ago. There might be a few missing details or gaps because of my own terrible memory, but this experience impacted my life and just goes to show how good humans can be, even if you can't understand each other's languages.
By Hannah Alexander5 years ago in Wander
My Hometown, My Heart
Hometowns. The place that helps build you, mold you, teach you. I knew at a young age that my hometown was special. It had a special kind of magic to it. Not the kind of magic that you see in movies or read in books. It’s the kind of magic that you feel in the air or see in the scenery. Pure bliss. I could walk out of my house and look out the backdoor and see the most beautiful mountain peak called La Jicarita, a part of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. I remember taking a moment just to breathe in that view, to capture it in my mind and savor the feeling of peace. That was a sight I can and never will forget.
By Dominique Rodarte5 years ago in Wander
The Girl Scouts Saved My Life
“Would you like to buy some cookies, Mister?” I turned to see the girl scout. She was about eleven years old, her auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore a dark green shirt and khaki pants. A light green sash decorated with pins and medals was draped across her chest. She smiled up at me, showing braces. She stood behind a table loaded with boxes of Girl Scout cookies. I stopped at the table and examined the boxes.
By Ricky Taylor5 years ago in Wander
