Winter Weary

The sun froze the land as it set that night casting cold shadow upon cold shadow. Out of the fields rose a last lazy breath of warm air.

The road not taken, and other poetic juxtapositions. 

As that warm air awakened and rose up ever higher. The sun burned a deeper orange no longer casting shadows, but merely saying goodnight.

I'll be in Montréal in January  2014

You've Got That Thing

 

               

L'esprit des étrangers

The spirit of the strangers: the ability to tell an unfamiliar person life lessons and travesties past in an attempt to clutch at their heart strings and get closer as people.

                

Boston is a magical city. The old lives within the identity of the new. The people have got that funk, that grasp on life most other parts of the country can't understand. It loves itself like no other. Boston is among my most favorite cities on this planet.

Suddenly Small

 I took this one in the largest library in the state of Maine. It seems that no one re-shelved the journals. I am between travelling right now; I will be in Boston this Saturday!

 It does not seem to take much these days to feel small, or slow.

It was in those last dying rays of sunshine on top of the cold mountaintop that he felt overwhelmed. They discovered that they would be best off by remaining at a little distance from one another. In the same way the need of society drives peoples together, only to be mutually repelled by the many prickly and disagreeable qualities of their nature. With all this said he had also considered that this life is finite; that he was simply conscious of the finer aspects of life if he lived it for himself and for others.