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Ruins in the Pine Barrens

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April 20, 2017 Estell Manor Park THE RUINS OF a munitions plant lay hidden near the bank of a river in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey. The plant, now only a broken shell of crumbling brick walls with empty windows and doorways, had once been filled with activity—as well as explosives—during the Great War. A century later, nature has reclaimed her land—but the memory of the past yet remained, ingrained in each leftover brick of the former plant. The nearby river appeared completely ordinary, flowing calm and smooth and blue—but, oh, what it must have witnessed over the decades, the centuries! The river watched as the munitions plant was built, brick by brick; the river watched as workers labored to birth deadly, unforgiving weapons; the river watched as the building fell into decay and the woods slowly but inexorably asserted their ground once more. . . . The ruins of a powerhouse and, beside it, a still-bubbling artisan well kept the former munitions ...
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GALWAY, IRELAND: The First Week

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June-July 2017 THE streets of Galway were a labyrinth, weaving together into a pattern she just couldn't comprehend. It was the wanderer's second day in Ireland, and she, along with her roommate (or, more accurately, housemate), B., were searching for Charlie Byrne's Book Shop. Wandering down new streets and doubling back and walking in circles, the girls simply couldn't seem to find the book shop, and they were running out of time. Turning yet another corner, they spotted a sign with the words "Book Shop" written across it and resigned to give up their search and just go in there. They advanced up the street. Above the words "Book Shop," there suddenly---almost magically---came into view a name: "Charlie Byrne's." They had quite literally stumbled upon their destination! It seemed to the wanderer that that was just the funny way the universe worked sometimes: When you stop looking for something, you find it. THE wanderer slowly st...
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LONDON: Act III

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March 6, 2017 TODAY, THE WANDERER was going to Kensington Gardens. She could hardly believe that, less than a year since she had first read J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens , she was going to the place where, in the world of fiction, a baby Peter Pan was raised by birds and experienced his first adventures; the place where J.M. Barrie himself had wandered through; the very place that his brilliant mind had transformed into a magical world filled with fairies and talking birds and joyful children, a little Neverland in the middle of the sprawling city of London. For her, it was nothing short of a dream come true. The weather was gorgeous: no heavy coat necessary. Clouds rolled through the blue sky without threatening a drop of rain. The flowers were already in bloom, and even though it was only the first week of March, spring was in the air. "The Serpentine begins near here. It is a lovely lake, and there is a drowned forest ...
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