I loved the quiet. It's there still, almost three years later. I go there a lot, inside to that silent, awe-making place. It does that: creates awe in me. There's very few words other than that to describe it. It's vast, full of everything, yet empty.

fat clouds writhed against a - bruised sky - moody and bored - impatient to dump - invisible loads

It leaves its mark - upon the skin - and lets its music - wander in...

I take nothing with me; yet leave the same, lest I am forced to return to claim it.

Resistance is good. I want to always resist becoming accustomed to ease or to taking such an eccentrically beautiful life for granted.