A blustery Easterly wind snatched at a flag flying at half-mast on a ghostly white pole in the predawn light. . .
Away from hordes of tourists milling on Venice’s St. Mark’s Square is an intriguing district whose distinctive culture goes back centuries. . .
I never understood the emotion around of the gun ownership debate until I picked up an M16 . . .
The monuments and the myths of Hearst Castle are a fitting legacy for one of the most outstanding and controversial characters of the twentieth century, William Randolph Hearst.
The sun is setting tinting the desert with a rosy glow as I ride on towards Coober Pedy. I’ve been on my Honda ST1300 since dawn. I desperately need a cold shower, hot meal, and a soft bed.
