The day he found the handcuffed woman in the road, John O’Leary had been barreling along Highway 94 west of Fargo, North Dakota. He was in his usual zone, a trance induced by a snort of crystal meth and the monotonous thrum of the long-haul rig’s eighteen wheels, his thoughts half in the...

Martin Craft watched his wife sleeping. She was lying on her back, her face toward him, the sheet pulled down around her hips. For a long time, he gazed at her, as if committing the beauty of her face and body to memory. When he reached to touch her, he could see that her eyes were moving...

It was a short flight from Bangkok to Chiang Mai on an airline that was then called “The Thailand Company for Walking on Air.” The previous few weeks had been a profoundly magical experience. We had filmed several days in the life of a Buddhist Monk and a sequence with the king’s art instructor,...