Today it will be something different. You think you are choosing something, and it is always yourself that you choose; a self that you did not know, if you are lucky.
i find hospital waiting rooms comforting places to read,
I wonder a lot about what happened aboard William Hearst's yacht the Oneida on that weekend in November in 1924.
i think i know every root and tree stump that one could trip over at Ragged Mountain. While hiking/jogging there, i almost never think about the Poe story 鈥淎 Tale of the Ragged Mountains鈥� (1844).
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