Jimmy Bradshaw gets up at seven every morning. He has done for the last fifty eight years, ever since he was fifteen. He was told that only the sick and the dying stay in bed after seven. He takes his time in the bathroom, carefully cleaning his dentures, tooth by tooth, then deck by deck, using an old toothbrush to grind the yellow crusty gunk that has collected from his previous days eatings. He is in no rush. No rush for young Jimmy. [Read more...]

I rolled underneath the overpass of the six-lane highway. The midday Nevadan sun was beating down heavily. I needed shelter. I was severely dehydrated. My mouth was as dry as an Arabs’ sandal. My head was light and my skin tight and crawling. I had no water, no phone, no wallet, [Read more...]