My 20-year-obsession with DragonStrike's instructional videotape
When my father was ten years old, he wandered the backroads of Washington with a .22 rifle. From sunup to sundown, in the ungroomed spaces, he ran accompanied by ramshackle Boy Scouts without uniforms...
View ArticleThe woman who shoots ghosts
Picture a photograph of a man with two faces — one grimacing in pain, one open-mouthed in ecstasy. They float in a field of darkness, lit red, connected only by a pale-pink thread of motion-blur. Is...
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