Somewhere locked in geostationary orbit over Virginia, a satellite maintains its dumb stare. Prompt it with a series of numbers and you can provoke it to produce pictures of Jefferson’s Monticello or that place you and your friends used to sneak off to by the Rapidan. 38.24521°N, 78.11247°W gets you to a concrete alley back of a post office loading dock. The satellite looks down, but once your thirteen-year-old eyes were looking up from that alley. Feet freezing in your too-tight shoes, slipping through the gray slush of a melting snow pile. Freedom on a … Continue reading The Alley by Alex Joyner →