From the Gulf

Galveston Dispatch: Music and the Island

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The sun sets over Galveston, painting the sky with hues of orange and purple while the Gulf whispers its ancient secrets. Adi and I drive along the Seawall, where time dances with the past. The notes of Artie Shaw and Benny Goodman spill through the windows, carried by the sea breeze. We leave the world behind, our imaginations fired by the stories hidden in the island’s bones and the echoes of the Big Band era, where rhythm and nostalgia hold sway over our hearts. The music tells a tale—one of dreams, memories, and the relentless passage of time. Amidst Galveston’s […]

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Galveston Dispatch: Attack of the Leaves

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Galveston Island blossoms into life each spring, yet paradoxically, it’s also a season when leaves cascade down, assigning islanders the paradox of endless weekend chores. Avenue L becomes a vibrant arena where neighbors engage in a playful battle royale, sending leaves back and forth across our beloved avenue. Armed with rakes and leaf blowers, residents embrace the chaos, or find peace by observing the spectacle from afar, showcasing Galveston’s enchanting camaraderie and the whimsical unpredictability of life. Join us in celebrating Galveston’s unique dance with nature, where each Gulf breeze stirs laughter and introspection. Whether you’re ready to rake or

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Surviving Dead Man’s Curve

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The ocean roared as a fierce friend beside us, its waves speaking of ancient strength and unspeakable peace. In the heart of Galveston Island lay Swell, a place not bound by time or gravity but by the soul-seeking respite of two souls weary from battles unseen.  Adi and I found ourselves on the cusp of that place where the world stops spinning, if only for a moment, granting refuge from the relentless march of seconds. Each room within Swell promised whispered secrets of renewal, a promise of healing crafted in light and warmth, an unseen embrace waiting to mend the

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Walking the Labyrinth

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In the quiet embrace of a new dawn, beneath the vast expanse of the Galveston sky, lies a path not of confusion, but of discovery. The labyrinth, an ancient symbol etched into this island’s sandy shores, beckons the soul to journey inward. It is here that the invisible lines between the mundane and the divine blur, inviting participants to shed the layers that conceal their true selves. Like pilgrims of old, they tread the winding path not to escape their burdens, but to transcend them. Guided by Rachel Stokes, whose heart is a vessel of service every first Saturday of

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A Harp’s Odyssey

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In the quiet corners of Galveston Island, where time drifts with the surf, Adi and I embarked on an odyssey of resonance and rhythm, led by a serendipitous muse—a harp. The island, like a siren call, summoned us, whispering of renewal and the gentle unfolding of life’s hidden symphonies. It was here that we found solace amid echoes of the past and the ethereal promise of a thousand unwritten songs. From the shores that cradled our dreams emerged a tale spun from ancient strings, a bridge between earthly souls and celestial whispers. The harp stood as sentinel, its melodies unearthing

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