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An Essay by Mercy Smith The smell of dead things sticks in your lungs like thick smoke. It is disturbingly recognizable; you know it instantly, and it stays with you. This is something I did not know until last summer. It was a typical shrub-steppe morning: I was...
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An Essay by Jaden McGinty Rohan’s stated goal of the trip was that I fall in love. Sam walked out of the cabin and onto the porch. She was clad in running shorts and had the kind of smoothed down ponytail my mother always wore—a detail I don’t know if I am remembering...
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An Essay by Elizabeth Amoriello “There’s no such thing as luck anymore,” he says, “just be grateful.” He shuts the door of his mid-90’s Jeep and I can see the red “NRA” symbol on his tee shirt emerging from his flannel. He has a big, hole-punched smile and he shimmies...
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A Poem by Connor Wolfe I saw the buck laid out like a busted myth— legs folded, belly soft, ribs skyward like someone gave up mid-prayer. Magpie standing proud on the chest, all slick tail and side-eye, scouting the seam between meat and morning. First day— fur not...
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A Poem by Heidi Barr From the collection, Church of Shadow and Light A while later, all at once the birds lift as one, a giant murmuration of sound soaring over still waters into the horizon beyond, silence stretching out in their absence, leaving a longing for a...
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No map. No limits. Just the journey—an interview series with artists, writers, and disrupters by Connor WolfeWelcome to Uncharted: No map. No limits. Just the journey—a new interview series from Wayfarer Magazine.I’m Connor Wolfe, Founder of Wayfarer Books and...
