“I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. To be in company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden
FIELD NOTES #20 The old songs won't do, trust me, I've tried, to dance, to make love only then to come up short because the rythym in my feet gives way to tired chords and failing beats. If there's a new song, one for lovers like me, the kind that turns young men old and old men young, then play it, and I'll try my best and hopefully, find the rythym I lost the night we met and the band played that song and I, foolish and young opnened my heart and without a second thought sold my soul to you. 𑁍𑁍𑁍 Red lips press against pale blue flesh. I try to speak, but all I have left is your lingering cold plaguing my upper lip, index finger rubbing raw the place where my bottom lip met your pale white cheeks. Like Judas in the garden branding Christ with a kiss: lovers and traitors always lie with their lips. 𑁍𑁍𑁍 Cutting backcountry with nothing but the will to live I stop and watch the sunset. Who knew home could seem so far?