Glacier Bay

There she is moving a few feet at a time towards the water. Carving her way through the mountains, down the ancient path that she's occupied for all these years. No one dares trespass on her frozen tundra. At the gaze across the Bay her face drops at the beauty of the water, fluid and dancing, feels his tides touch her toes, ankles, knees as he greets her like a cat meandering between her legs adjusting his whiskers.

Writing on the thread of the Web

I've kept different types of journals over the years full of the scraps from my cavernous mind. Different notebooks filled with poems, stories, embellishments, and editorials. They were just simple places to release thoughts and emotions that were bursting through my hands as they tried to grasp for something solid to hold on to, so I didn't just get swept away in a self-made tornado. The pen and paper were trustworthy friends to confide to.

The privacy of notebooks is drastically different from a blog. I recognize that this is the public domain, a dangerous and invigorating place to write. Letting my thoughts, experiences, and ideas out into the World Wide Web where people can read them at their leisure, and give a response is exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time. So here I am, not sure of what to share, but writing all the same on the largest bathroom wall of all.