May 25, 1999: Early morning adventures part one
I try never to let rust grow on me—there are plenty of storms and searing heat from all kitchens. My most grand wish is to continue pushing forward. Suddenly I’m caught between fact and fantasy—people hate this about me. I’ve been told it’s very unhealthy! I shall walk into the forest while the sun continues to race toward noon. I shall watch as the morning droplets of last nights final thought fall to the floor. A floor my neighbors wish to sweep. The trees cry, I only wish to hold their hand.