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Crabs, Crows, and the Places We Leave Behind

What you can’t have will find you everywhere

Something landed in front of me

The street ran along the top of a high bank strangled by ancient nettles. Slick rats made homes in the bottle-brown cathedral beneath the brambles. Below, the port. And a sea the color of concrete, slapping thick and lazy against the…



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Ryan Frawley

Novelist. Essayist. Former entomologist. Now a full-time writer exploring travel, art, philosophy, psychology, and science.