There is history in everything that surrounds me.But here, I have none.I prefer the present—moments drowned in nature. A swift breeze, water moving over rock,lazy locusts and croaking frogs.If I listen closely, the trees begin to whisper.Softly, sweetly, they urge meto leave my hurried lifeand live among them. Birdsong scolds mefor reflecting on my city …
what did love teach you?
Nothing is especially brave or exceptional about not saying those words or being passionate about them. The truth is in the action. And the things that are real can only be proven with time. I guess I can officially call this Christmas season to a close. Relatively uneventful and much calmer (read easily) than last …
Dixie's Road Trip 