“The night wears on; the fire dwindles; the wind shifts and my heart aches with nostalgia – summer camps and catching lightning bugs and August skies aflame with stars. The way the desert smells and the long, wistful sigh of wind rushing down from the mountains as the sun dips beneath the horizon.”

“The night wears on; the fire dwindles; the wind shifts and my heart aches with nostalgia – summer camps and catching lightning bugs and August skies aflame with stars. The way the desert smells and the long, wistful sigh of wind rushing down from the mountains as the sun dips beneath the horizon.”

— Rick Yancey