I sat waiting for it with my eyes closed. I heard the music from upstairs mix with the sounds of my own music. I chewed the ends of my mustache and saw the pattern of grass and how it looked… Read More ›
The night settled in and we filled the valley with our campfire smoke. It plumed out blue making the hillsides misty like we were somewhere far away in the bush, just me and Neil Young, his guitar and harp.
We are animated by a force that inhabits this shell, bound to it.
We are living this life where everyone we encounter is just a version of ourselves, the same as in dreams. How long have we been imagining shapes in the clouds? Or telling stories?
It is a small but very precious part of me hanging in our front window.