Metling lavers of old
Trip Start Oct 01, 2010
14Trip End Dec 17, 2010
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"i drink some ginger tea as i write to you. the soft coat of honey, the
slight pucker of lemon, the broad burn of long-steeped ginger glide
through my orafice. how nice it is to take time with the word. to let
trails of tender impulses urge forward and glide back, the tide of
thoughts ebbing and churning like some frothy sea, and i the observer
offer a prayer by funneling what essence i can touch into word.
the day is warm today.. sunny, sunny, sunny, sunshine nearly blinds my
eyes as i gaze outside, reflecting off rock and wood and metal, the
world is aglow with the sight of sunshine. an extreme difference from
last night; walking out late at night, i was amongst the beastly
mountains, towering up on all my sides, white and aglow for the shine
of the half-crescent moon sitting peacefully in the star-dotted
blackness. and above, in that void, i see points of light of a number
that i can nearly not recognize. the number of bright needlepoints of light is a hundred times
greater than I recall from my city viewings, and i stand surprised,
head tilted far back, to notice that orion and cassiopeia and the big
dipper blend in amongst the rest. my definition of Starry Sky changes
in an instant.
such is my experience here. days of reflection. settling in to my soft skin."