Megan Eaves-Egenes

“At the northeast corner of this valley, the river suddenly turns from east to north, flows in this course a few miles between immense walls of sandstone, then turns again to the eastward, and holds this course to the mouth of the San Miguel, crossing on its way two sharp ridges and a transverse valley.…

There is a dream I’ve had twice in my life, which has never left me. I was 11 or 12 when it first appeared, and maybe close to 20 when I had it again. It is as clear in my mind as it was those years ago. I’m standing in the smoking ashes of a…

The other morning I woke early. The summer sun was piercing through the blinds and wouldn’t be blocked by an eye pillow. It was going to be a hot, still day. The kind good for nothing much, and with not much to do I decided on a meander. After dressing and stepping out into the…

You’re here in my mind. I guess that’s the way it was going to be. Funny how often I find myself on Quaker Street. It’s a throwaway street that runs parallel to the railway line at Shoreditch High Street, and if you come out of the station and under the bridge, you pass all the…

I can’t forget when I first got thrown. I was just a little girl, maybe 6 or 7, taking the pony, a chestnut called Charlie, for a turn around the arena. The arena was a big, fenced-in rectangle on the south side of our adobe house with a view of the mountains. The scrub, cactus…