The Bride of Cotopaxi Volcano

As our humble, able red truck crackled along the crunchy mud roads, our children hung from the windows breathing in the thick, foggy air. It smelled of mint and eucalyptus, pine and grass, wet soil and spring blooms. The silence ached in our ears like the space in time after the last note of a […]

via The Bride of Cotopaxi — 8Duffels & 2Mutts

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