" the long ride, the wayward route "


just making a kink in the taut rope of each day. a deliberate disruption in the way is all seems to be going at any given time.

not a delineation from a semblance of a path, but giving yourself the opportunity to alter plans at any given moment. all it takes is a whisper of a thought; we can be all of the best parts of ourselves at any given moment. and why only for one moment? why not all the time?

experimentation with conversation, making a conscious decision to make a left turn or wait in a spot to see what will happen. so many different outcomes, and we do our best through it all.

frit in a sea of sea-glass, the one eyelash in between the surface and the lid, fuzz and squawks in the white noise radio silence. everything valid and neither good nor bad, and at all times striving to find the right balance in all things.


" always in a new place "


i'm standing at the river's edge, looking out upon an afternoon filled with infinite possibility.

the sounds of the water laps against the granite pieces; crystalline peals with the reflected  echoes of rocks close together. the ferries pull into the docks, and churn the waters with massive engines.

just out of the periphery, sunbathers absorb dappled sunlight upon the expanse of their skin. a woman shifts and places her right forearm across her eyes; the palm of her hand cupped slightly and facing upwards towards the wide blue sky.

behind me is everything that ever happened, and in front of me, everything that will yet be. being at the focal point of memory at times feels like a sunny afternoon on an island somewhere in the world.

i am closing my eyes gently, and taking it all in.