p o V E R t Y
The poverty of our century is unlike that of any other. It is not, as poverty was before, the result of natural scarcity, but of a set of priorities imposed upon the rest of the world by the rich….
Category
The poverty of our century is unlike that of any other. It is not, as poverty was before, the result of natural scarcity, but of a set of priorities imposed upon the rest of the world by the rich….
Since the beginning, Americans have raced toward the horizon: building, rebuilding, and discarding. All across America we have left abandoned, like carcasses after the feast, that which only yesterday was state-of-the-art invention. — David Plowden said that
The Old Courthouse Fayetteville, Arkansas Clock: A machine for measuring time, indicating the hour and other divisions by means of hands moving on a dial plate. Its works are moved by a weight or a spring, and it…
Of all the ruinous and desolate places my uncle had ever beheld, this was the most so. There was a huge fire-place in the room into which they walked, and the chimney was blackened with smoke; but no warm…
As a person who has lived in many towns, in many states; always in the public eye, I’ve had to devise a plan for quick simulation. One of the tools I’ve made use of in this process is a…
Small towns in the southern part of the United States commonly have a town square, which if you’ve never seen one is literally a square parcel of ground in the center where the town courthouse sits and around the…
“Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A beauty bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one. It would explode high in the air; explode softly and send thousands, millions of…
Remember those carefree days when you sat on a porch swing in the evening and listened as the sounds of night began one by one to chime together creating a symphony? Do you recall the breeze touching lightly on…
When I was twelve, I went hunting with my father and we shot a bird. He was laying there and something struck me. Why do we call this fun to kill this creature who was as happy as I…
Once upon a time, (all good stories begin like that), a tendril, shooting off from a weed, grew. as it stretched it’s way upward toward the sun, it found a crack in the wood of a window and decided