Tag: maned wolf

  • The writer’s life

    The writer’s life

    Yesterday I was walking Paul, and we stopped at a little park that’s really no more than a larger-than-usual grassy roundabout. It was twilight; Paul was sniffing and back-scratching the grass, enjoying the scent of water and green that’s so rare in the desert summer, like you do. When we turned around, there was a…