“Do you miss Tony?” I asked, as our van hummed over the bustling streets of Shanghai. “Oh yeah,” replied the bearded American expat to my left, “There’s definitely a void. I don’t know if we’ll ever fill it.”...

“Where do you write?” the man asked, half covered in mud from the volcanic hot spring. He’d seen the camera and pack accompanying the curiosity of two Americans in a remote South Pacific forest. “For today, Travel Channel,”...

The roar of gasoline and metal woke me as a nameless rider bolted through the middle of the Mojave Desert. A mile from the nearest road, I could still hear the blast of the motorcycle’s pipes echoing through...

Dry fingers ran over the frets like powdered bone as I laid down a busted blues lick on top of the Joshua Tree. Someone had left the guitar here, propped against a dead plant in a nameless California...