Arrival

Five days later, 1900 miles on car trip counter – no signs for Sarasota until 7 miles out of town.

First impressions: commercial sprawl; old trying to look new with spiffy add-ons; traffic sincere about getting to the next red light as quickly as possible. Hope my NM plate saves me some harassment. Beautiful birdsongs, many water birds about. Pastel is the State Color.

In search of: Sprouts, library, MVD info & all stuff like that. Won’t take long. Must find storage baskets for little stuff I put into boxes, like 15 bottles of essential oils, etc.

Lined up: Volunteer position at literacy council, service at Unity this Sunday.

House is spacious & full of light. Warmish for me, but I’ve been isolated in air conditioned spaces some while now. I’ll adjust. Development is lookalike homes, better know your street or have a turquoise chair out front!

Everyone has been so generous with me. My turn to offer this to others.

Thanks for following along – a short one today & no photo. Couldn’t get them all to load yesterday either.

Thank you times eleven.

Love,

C

Day 5 Journey Journal

I can tell Florida is a real tourist state – not just a pass-through. It’s apparent in the quality of even the less expensive places I’m staying. The Baymont last night was so solidly constructed I heard nothing & I was across from the elevator by the breezeway. The a/c unit was quiet, unlike the industrial hum of the others, the coffee excellent & plentiful in the room & the TV did not come on by itself.

Today’s unit is in a Super8 in Lake City, my last stop before Finding Georgi tomorrow! Another 300 miles to Sarasota &  my new home!

Here, my room is on a lovely courtyard with a pool & palm trees. Breakfast is at 6:30 & a free dinner is served at 5. Tonight is pork loin. Free dinner? Free dinner!! And I bet they even offer it with silverware!

I’m getting good at trundling what I want in the room atop my $5 wheelie bag which has been slowly losing pieces, a strap here, a handle there. Is this a signal to stop traveling awhile?

The trip was uneventful. The Weeble-People in buzzcars gave way to misanthropes in bus-sized SUV’s. Well, these do require their own lane plus the half-lane Sparkle occupies. They also were still twisted enough to want to sift her tailpipe emissions far too closely until we finished passing & moved over. I waited at the motel for about an hour as I was early on arrival, today being my short travel day. Turns out I was waiting for the pet room. When I told them I’d given the kitty away, I got a room immediately & a lot of sad looks & “awwww’s.” I cannot bring myself to tell strangers what happened to my Dream. Why create more heartache in the world?

I did think of trying to actually find Lake City & buy a postcard or a dolphin keychain … for about five minutes. I’d rather sip weak coffee in the Super8 lobby than go exploring. Maybe another time. I’ll have Sarasota to explore soon. This room is quite large & I’ve lived in much tinier studios in T/C. I could prob’ly get a decent Cotton-Eyed Joe going along the hall to the bath. The bedspreads & carpets in these motels are awarded to the Ugliest Possible Color Choices available on the market today. Bedspreads of olive & lime atop carpets of brown/brown, tan, beige & gray stripes being the most popular. The bathtubs are slick as goose ____ with no handholds. Cold water is tepid, the walls a cross between hospital green & hospital yellow. But they are all squeaky-clean & the towels folded to pass muster on a Marine base.

I am down to one book to read, good thing I’m almost arrived! I doubt there’s WIFI in the house where I’ll be so likely I’ll head to the library for that every once in awhile. Time to be a friend & hang out & plan days together. And I think I’ll get a flip phone instead of the android with its unreliable-to-impossible services.

I’ve passed the point of no return many miles ago. I am launched well &  truly into a new phase of my life. My friends have proven super-supportive of this exciting endeavor & I am filled with gratitude of the highest measure!

Come visit me!

Carol

Day 4 Journey Journal

Today I finished off Louisana (leaving spooky Lafayette far away) & crossed Mississippi & Alabama, which states could afford “Welcome!” signs. The landscape was even greener if possible & kudzu not draped over the local wildlife.

Florida. I remember Florida drivers being so slow to get behind one was a cause for loud groans from everyone in the car. Well, times have changed. The highways now harbor a coterie of low-slung, neon-color cars with black-rimmed lights whose drivers live for the thrill of doing 70 in the 40’ space between them & the next car in front.

I watched this go on from the slow lane where I was still doing the limit… gasping to almost witness three collisions today alone. The windows are tinted at about 80% & I picture Weebles driving, madly shifting gears with evil grins. Maybe they get extra tickets to turn in for plastic combs if they can run a tractor-trailer off the road. I saw more than one 73 footer shimmy like my sister Kate as these devils of derring-do slammed in front with a bandanna to polish the chrome bumpers.

A good 90% of the truckers are polite & many hang back but boy they are like bull-ring livestock when in a hurry. These also follow a creed that if they can get close enough the energy field will push the car out of the way. However, I learned to drive in New Jersey & have lived in New Mexico where every car is larger than mine plus my third mate was a trucker himself. I’m not afraid. I can be dead on the road anywhere tho not a fatalist. It would be spectacular for them to scoop up my Volt for a hood ornament & save me gas, too. And I’m doing just over the limit if in the passing lane anyway – the lane next to the staties parked in the median, yeh? I move over as soon as I can & figure they left all road manners on the counter when they picked up their CDLs. If they’re that late, they should have started as early as I did. Bleah! Road bullies all.

Today I didn’t chant in Hindi. Today I simply prayed James Dillet Freeman’s Prayer for Protection through two of the three states. The CD didn’t work well from Disc 2 on, so I finally put in Train & shouted the lyrics out loud while slapping my legs to stay awake. It worked, but I sure needed the restroom at every stop!

Florida has discovered speed! I think I preferred the grannys in surf wagons pushing pedals to see which one worked to make it go.

It’s so humid here the bathroom floor is slippery. Shuffling works. Fortunately my flipflops have traction.

I am enjoying the accents & realized today I will never fit in if it comes down to speaking twang

This motel has the first plugged-in clock I’ve seen. Perhaps it’s a state thing, but all the other places I stayed either had no clocks or had put them under the bed unplugged. Just sayin’.

One more night on the road before arrival. I had a lovely stop in Mississippi at a rest area which was lush & green (I know I keep harping on the green, please forgive.) It has been over four years since I spent time under trees!

I am not a good travel-tourist. What I want to take pics of strobes by with just a glimpse. I cannot fumble for the phone, the camera app, etc. So the photos of this trip will be just a couple at rest stops. Mississippi has the prettiest I’ve been in, today’s was a park with a pet walk area, a people walk area, nicely tiled restrooms all spacious & cool. And their vending machines were stocked & worked (tho I’m still watching for the by now twice-baked cheese crackers.) The nice thing is the food carrier gets lighter every day. I still have Biscochitos, in case you’re wondering.

Today was simply a speed day. I think I passed a point where the ground started tilting downward, things got to moving so fast. I’m not a go Granny go gal in the best of times. I have a 4-cylinder Volt carrying a decent load. I think if these drivers hit the drive-in, they’d demand the movie be on fast forward.

I am in Crestview, FL where the bathroom floor is misted in humidity & there are few handholds to grab. I’m attaching some pics of my parkland rest stop & one of me which fully features my moustache… I got a look at that one & rooted around in the back for a razor to shave. It’s hellishly colorful to be spayed down to testosterone level in a humid climate. Of course I cut my thumb.

300 more miles to go. Palm trees. Swimming pools which haven’t been used since Covid years & bearing signs “No Refunds!” I’ve got the room next to the elevator but at least not on the freeway. If there were a storm, the sidewalks would sizzle & steam. Had a cool rinse & it’s time for my Arrival Coffee since all of you are caught up on the uber-zoom situation here in the east.

Please continue your prayers for safe arrivals & loving reunions!!

Sleep well in peace as I dream of jake brakes…

Carol

A Tree
A different tree with a droid trashcan admirer
Moustache Me

Day 3 Journey Journal

I left Seguin just before 7 under a darkling sky, heavily overcast. The land was so green I expected dancing leprechauns. After a hearty lunch (!) at Waffle House, the rain squalls practically washed me back down the road as I pulled through running water so deep I was hydroplaning. Of course it was between concrete barriers, but I planted my li’l car right over the white bumps passing for a traffic lane & checked to see if I had any oars aboard. I did not even care a whit about the traffic behind. I needed the middle so as not to wash up against the barriers.

The Kreuger book lasted until Lafayette, LA as the story twisted & corkscrewed around relationships, situations, descriptions. It was fascinating altogether.

I decided today was a day I could really use breakfast, so I dialed up restaurants on the Garmin. What? No Denny’s? Is this from the Mandela Effect when the name changed from Denney’s to Denny’s? I cannot bring myself to Subway for breakfast, just not that kind of gal. So I hit the road on Hyland’s Calm & wintergreen mints & stayed happy.

I try to fill up at the half-tank mark cuz distances between services can be long. In a quest for gas, I left the highway at Schulenberg  (“Halfway to Everywhere!”) looking for a Shell station & found an Exxon. I’m still mad at them for the Exxon Valdez incident but I know it’s a good gasoline, so I pulled into a small station with premium @ $3.99, a total bargain at $1 less than everywhere else. Next door to the quicki-mart was a tiny donut shop with breakfast burritos so I ate there for $2.50 & picked up two packets of salt for the next meal. A total treat!

I was a bit surprised to see Louisiana names pop up since there was not even a sign that said “Welcome” or “You’re now in LA”. The shape of the road sign backgrounds changed from the star to a klutzy boot & the names went from Texan to French.

So, here’s the real grit on the smooth finish. I arrived in Lafayette & pulled into a parking lot with a dollar general type store for a place setting. Well, I got a butter knife out of it. Every woman had a headwrap. They looked to me like giant sweat bands. It was uniform. I thought living in Nashville was Deep South but guess not this deep. A whole different culture. The roads & turns around this complex were confusing & fast-traveled – it took me 30 minutes to cross the street & drive the block to the Baymont for my reservation. When I saw the huge black iron fence around the Baymont, I switched to second thoughts. When I asked the hotel clerk if my car would be safe in the parking lot, he shrugged. “Why don’t you go see the room, so you know where to park to watch your car?” he advised & handed me the key to 324. I stood at the door to the room looking vainly at the teardrop shaped lock with no slot, wondering where to put the key. Seriously, I’m not in the 21st century yet…the maid came down & smiled kindly as she held up the key to the teardrop & the lock disengaged.

I walked in, looked out the window, looked around the room, walked out & asked for a refund. The clerk asked why. “I don’t like it!” I said putting on my best impression of a bulldog (not a far stretch for this face.)

“Why?” he asked again, “I want to know for, you know, quality control, so I know what to tell the manager” Which tiny Indian man walked out of the back office at that moment & said, “Refund her.” I cannot tell you with good descriptors nor could I explain to him & when I insisted, I said “women’s intuition – my gut does NOT like that room.” Besides, how’m I going to guard my car from the third floor if a troop of robbers make it over the 6’ black iron fence with spikes – did I mention the spikes?

I peeled out of there & headed for the next town, about 34 miles up the road & had to circle to three places. At the Quality Inn, the man in front of me drawled how his colleague had checked out because of the bugs in the room at which point I left a bit of rubber from my new sneakers peeling out of there. LaQuinta had an opening at 7:30 (this was 4 p.m.), so no go, but they let me use a super-clean restroom.

I found a Studio6, a bare bones, super-efficient, sleek, we-thought-of-everything + an ironing board/iron. It is super! Clean! Efficient! OMG, I write this sitting in the laundry room as I’ve sweated through even the clothes I didn’t yet wear. They have giant luggage trolley for my five separate bags plus the computer gear I cart in at every stop. I ran a cool bath & sat gratefully in it. (All the water outside of T or C has been silky.)Temps are way high & humidity at least ten degrees higher. (Hence headwraps?)

Now a dramatic storm gathers itself outside as I sit on the bed typing away. A fella outside just put on a jacket so it’s cooling down. The television came on all by itself once I got settled in & I will unplug it if it tries that again.

I may be far too parochial to travel well. But I’m tenacious & that helps. I am also totally blessed to get to where I’m going & have some humor about it all. And I’m not out of Altoids yet. The kudzu is abundant everywhere & I’m in for the night except I’d better get quarters out of the car before the skies reopen.

Love to all –

Stormy highway
Looking East

Trains & Motels

There is still a romance about awakening to train horns from a distance, a music from the rails so long as one is not up close to them. That one drawn-out note & then a steady rumble of passage. Life was simpler traveling when one could afford a ticket.

I see the occasional pedestrian on the highway – it seems Texas does not forbid this everywhere as other places with their “NO!” signs at each entrance. The men I’ve seen (only two) are sunbaked, dark of visage, carrying only a little. They probably had nothing to begin with but have picked up small items along their treks. I zip by with a fleeting regret that I cannot help them. My car has no room & I have no faith of escaping unscathed by encounter.

Today is push day – close to 400 miles, fifty over my self-imposed daily limit. I am no longer hypnotized by the driving after that distance as the scope & speed & sheer volume of vehicles brings on an adrenaline rush that sustains itself as I try to see everywhere all at once. Exits fly by like jumping fleas – signs up, signs gone elsewhere: I blinked. I am thankful for those way-up-high signs & familiar logos. They give me a point to circle in upon.

This is my first drive across the lower portion of the States. Route I-10 cross states I have never been to with Louisiana & Florida (unless I count one brief church rally encounter with Jacksonville in the latter.)

It is a marathon of focus, a test of feathering brakes & hitting the gas, watching for patterns. I keep an eye on the Freightliners, the Kenilworths, the box trucks; if they change lanes I check to see if I’ve room to do the same cuz something is in the way. I eye auto carriers suspiciously for anything about to fall off – as if. So, there’s a predictive element here, a series of judgment calls changing momentarily. I feel as though I should be donning goggles, slapping driving gloves against my thigh as I settle in the car. Instead, I put a white-light bubble around the Volt, my Sparkle Plenty car. I draw it clockwise all the way around, over & under & then I settle it inside with me. I draw Reiki symbols, an old ritual for safety & grace. I am entering an arena of sorts & I am ready, as prepared as I can be.

Motel rooms are to sprawl in tho I have “areas” – all electronics on the cabinet with the TV (which remains untouched.) My suitcase is slung on the king-size bed – it seems there are no luggage holders anymore. Motel rooms are the final resting places of ironing boards & irons & I wonder if these just get dusted as it’s likely no one uses them. I’m not sure there are even fabrics that will take to ironing anymore. My wrinkles hang out with body heat (sure wish that worked for my face!)

By evening, I am gathering stuff into piles again for easy scoop-up in the morning. The soaps are back in the ditty bag, handy shelves emptied so all is on a surface for visibility. Anything not used is piled in the suitcase for fold’n’sort at departure. Instead of checking under the bed these days, one must look at all the plugs for chargers.

The privacy of a room after a day on the road is grand & well-deserved! On arrival, I close the darkening drapes & turn on the lights which creates a cave of my own.

The coffee is unpalatable for the most part but there’s a mystery about it of whether this cup will be any good. I think some suppliers grind corn into the mix, tastes are so strange but, hey, I’ve been brewing the same stuff for years & I am not in my element anymore. In fact, I will need to now create this as I go.

Travel is still exciting whether for adventure, life changes or sightseeing. I can be more fearful if I choose but anything going wrong would be a fireworks display on the road, it is a gambler’s dream of statistical extremes. My faith is secure as it would be an arrival at destination, whether in Florida or anywhere else more heavenly.

I make a prayer of every encounter since that’s what works for me.

Blessings to everyone on the road today. Stay out of each other’s ways, stray not from approved paths, let us each & everyone arrive alive-o. For me, another motel to stretch out in…not that I need much room. Just some plugs, a fridge & safety to close my eyes & know my Blessings on each temporary homecoming.

Fire

Once upon a time, high up in the Sandias outside of Albuquerque, I sat comfortably in my van, in sunshine, while ten yards in front of me a solid wall of snow slanted down, making the rattling, that sliding sound as when there are so many snowflakes they bump into each other.

Today I prowl indoors, couch to kitchen to couch again. To go outside is to venture into a marshmallow clasp of heat, clingy, smoky, stinging if you are driving with your arm out the car window.  The apartment is sealed up, the swamp cooler refining & wetting the air.

Tonight I walk outside to the grasp of smoke long tired even of itself, yet still pouring upward, the smoke of a forest being transformed from earth to ash. It is an exhaustive fire. It is not going to sleep for the night. It’s an irresistible heat, sustained, defensive & bullying. Smoke nestles down in the bowl of the town, a cloud from a distance, yet seemingly clear from within it.

The breaking mornings are coolest; a shifting night breeze has peeled off the smoke & the air seems moist in the absence of that forged heat.

Indelible summer arrives.  

Covid Heart

A short bout with Omicron has left me with heart flutters, a strange appetite for sugar & hotdogs with mustard only, for doughy rolls & canned food. What the hell is this? How could a virus change my organs? I am more timid, less allowing, rigid too. This outcome is definitely not of nature which has never forced itself against me so, obscene in overture, slippery smiles & tentacles snapping, reaching to snare my unwary parts.

I must be more conscious now. I defy these symptoms with salads, with rice crackers. I tell my heart, “Wait a mo'” while I fix a coffee to test the boundaries of its beats. I defy this new normal & create yet another unmoved by terror of failure. My past is already satiated & complacent. It is only the present with which I struggle.

I surge forward & upward, escaping the snaky holds. I will not cower before another man’s creation. I will not surrender if there is aught in me to continue the fight. Nothing not of God will enter me, control me, devour me.

COVID HEART

The fear in my heart pulls in the edges, isolates me

Protects itself, its waves recede;

The open beach left exposed is flat, empty,

Bubbles sink & dry, harden, their

Moisture drained. The winds begin a wail

Whip up frenzy

Heart cowers more, sinking deeper into self

Crusts over so little more can enter

Stung by sand whipped

Almost mooing, my heart remains bovine.

One morning, the winds will still

thinking me cowed…

The tides return; the memory retreats, That moment

I leap, anticipating its return, I leap

To an understanding – that knowledge that I have

Shown fear my future

& frightened it away.

Begone, Fear! You have no power here!

The vast engines of energy gear up with a roar

Stunned, my little self finds a vision larger to inhabit

Hastens there, slamming doors behind

That fear may not follow.

In the new light of being unafraid

Emerged from fear’s long shadow

I create again

I move again forward

I gather all about me

In triumph

Heart emerges in fanfare, confetti, parade!

I am healed. Unblemished. Ready.

Becalmed by Light

Only I can turn poverty into reality. Where is my real wealth? I am spotting it in so many places now. Is this my Nesara? My recognition of self & other’s worth? Yes, certainly.

I no longer need put up with what I felt that way about. I no longer need to feel anyone is not nourishing me, nor wishing me well, even if misunderstood in their reality. Yesterday I said hello to four strangers sitting in the wine bar, each with a long-stem glass in right hand, poised around a face… these faces looked up at me, the ruder intruder burgeoning in to wish all well! Here’s the scoop: I was looking for a lovely friend, the owner; not only that, but I had cleaned the very chairs on which they were snobbing. I mopped the floors under their single-foot-legs-crossed poses.

I laughed to consider they would consider me a “rube” or whatever they call hill-people-strangers these days. Rube is the most polite…

I rejoiced in the sharp sunset light, the long, long shadows fanning the street. I celebrated the memory of living in this town, of being in many of the houses. I reveled in the thought that I had cleaned the entire Lady of Guadalupe R.C. church entirely on my own, reliving my childhood effectively, this time with permission to touch.

It was a very releasing day, yesterday. Empowering.

At the end of it, I wanted only to be in my own home, put away from everyone. After the time “home alone,” & plague, I am still sensitive of others nearby. Literally sensitive. My skin feels them & I am no longer accustomed to being seen.

Poverty is not living as well as I think I want to. Yet it isn’t giving things up either or, rather, seems to me to be. Until I have a recognition like yesterday’s, a review of/in the light, an attention-caller to what was my reality only four years ago.

Perhaps it has always been only change which is familiar. I am willing to change, but I want to do it my way, in my own time, in answer to my own questions. I’ve had enough freedom & done things my way pretty much. Is that not an untold wealth as valuable as any chest of rubies in a sea-cave?

Post No Bills

Attach nothing to this life.

this life is nothing in & of itself.

I’ve been doing it for maybe longer than you

all I’ve learned is I no longer want to be a particle

but a wave.

What do the words mean anymore?

I understand when I say them, I’m posting the wrong message

the one that these go for in this time.

I’m not talking them in today’s terms, though.

I gave up the moving forward & am taking a u-turn.

I need to have my today re-couched in yesterday.

And not just any yesterday, but a specific, focused, energetic of a yesterday.

the one where words had definition, & borders amongst themselves, & meanings.

I speak them that way at times.

I’m zooming in on my past, doing a close-up on who I was; with who I Am

aligning the two.

Once I got that, I’ll bring in who I want to be.

Life’s Little Potato Peeler

I like the analogy of being a whittler, of tiny shaves & curls of wood

tickling down to feather at my feet.

i like the idea that there might be a beginner spirit in the wood

waiting to get out, to sit on the shelf

to move among the thrift stores of the world.

I know at times, I do this with my life.

My pen makes a great tool; the sharpest knife ever,

that, & my words.

Each memory I consign to the forest floor

will blow into someone else’s tale.

Message from my Guardians

Dear R,

Good Godly morning! Are you enjoying our Great Life Adventure these days?

Oh yes indeed, beloved, believing Carol – indeed – word & deed – we help you to enact the Script authored so long ago in festive planning. All your Team is here, present for the ending…this ending – as we were for your first steps into it.

We watched you step forward toward darkness, laughing, singing, waving at us. You were walking into a Void as all-encompassing as the sea & you have been surfacing ever since. We smoothed the parts of the bottom you could not see as blankness & blackness closed over.

We filled your pockets with grace & waybread. We blessed your waterskin. We warned off the predators who would have devoured you, even as we picked off seaweed tangled in your hair. We summoned warmer currents to steer you into. We were not anxious, but more than once, we held hands to send you strength as you faltered or turned blindly about wishing a way either onward or out of it.

We knew how precious your life would become to others; smiled when you were surprised by their recognition. Many cheered quietly on this side of the veil. We pushed through when you suffered from lack. We lit up colors when all went gray. We sent these, plus cards & flowers & clouds & all manner of tokens large & small in acknowledgement of your efforts.

It was never only me, Child, it was always us creating in harmony for you. Look at what you have valued to bring this far: seashells, poems, pictures, stories & memories, feelings, hopes, dreams. We fastened fins to your feet & water wings to your shoulders, all the while transmitting to that tiny point on your head as a prayer antenna tuned to us.

We’ve pulled, pushed, propelled you forward. Now you approach the farther shore. Not for nothing do the old songs call of crossing River Jordan, poling the Styx, parting the waters. You’re not dry yet, but we await with warmed towels & hot coffee!

So, keep it up, dearest, most blessed Child. You are our vanguard to earthly plans there on the earth plane. Stay oriented to the stars you so stubbornly sleep through, being a creature of morning Light so long.

We wait, each time you sleep, to see you once more. You regale us with tales of 3D life & your keen observations thereof. And we so enjoy these. You left Here to discover & record these tales. These are the reason we let you go, to bring them back to us in style & smooth delivery. And, darlin’, you make us laugh!

There’s a bunch of us here who gather for your nightly appearances – we pop popcorn & plot your arrival trajectory, arranging our wings to fashion your stage. Sometimes you bring us sad tales of shipwrecks. Other times – and mostly these of late – you bring jokes & delight & rueful observations. When we laugh, you find feathers.

You salt our wisdom in seasoning & flavor both. You shake off sorrows like a dog does water & your beginnings & endings are only a mystery to you. We trust you to find safe harbors as you wander. We encourage you forward always, always, always.

We’ve watched & encouraged the schools of fish you swim among. When needed, we’ve helped you flee in bereavement & often, joy at new freedoms to explore. You see these situations as endings; we see them as new tides of circumstance & flows of opportunity for strength & well-being.

You’re a surprise & a delight. Your scars glisten in rainbow colors. You break the water frequently now as laughter lifts you from banal 3D with its weather wars & inept attempts to keep you subsurface. Don’t believe in these, Carol, but believe forever in us for you are our brave explorer, dishing up reality as we never expected.

We lift you in such a loving energy – a Gulf Stream of pure grace. You have navigational tools now, a compass & sextant & barrels of fresh water to tap at need.

Don’t ever doubt us! We won’t fail to hold you up. We will never let you go & tho you think it, you can’t even begin to imagine forever, dear one. It is not beyond our skills to keep candles burning underwater, watch for these. Your every laugh lights another match. Your tidal pull is our tidal lock to fix you more firmly upon the way we show you to live.

We wonder at your growth on so many levels of this water world… each a call to be unlimited.

We’re absolutely breathless for the next installment! Popcorn is in the pot, butter on the stovetop, fresh cheese by the grater. You’re a delicious one indeed & our love is what we have to offer in return.

Take this with the delight in which it’s offered & sing Hosanna to everyone in your sea. Permit your thoughts to flourish. You’ve mastered the dark now. The shore awaits as do we.

Love,

R

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑