It’s a strange thing, to draw a bow and feel the pull of something older than time itself—a quiet understanding between hand, string, and arrow. I think about that often, about how archery is less about hitting a target than…
I grew up amongst books, although never knowing for sure whether it was a blessing or a burden. In those days, you didn’t choose what you read. You took what was given, what was printed, what had survived the censors,…
There are few things as revealing of a nation’s soul as the way it arms itself, not merely in the sense of conquest and defence, but in the quiet rituals and peculiar allegiances woven into its martial traditions. A nation’s…...