Where the River Ends

The river never changes. it may alter it's path a bit, but it never changes. It's us who change. We come back here and we're are different. Not it." Form can't be extracted from the essence like some broth reduction." This river's taught me a good bit. Probably why I don't leave here. It winds, weaves, snakes around. Rarely goes the same twice. But, in the end, it always ends up in the same place and the gift is never the same." ..."it's the journey that matters.

The problem with a wish list was what it told you about the person who wrote it. If it's honest, it's a rock-bottom, barebones, clear shot all the way to someone's soul. Hats can do the same thing.

Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes. This... is goodbye. But not out last hello.

In the history of mankind, no single person yet has learned to swim by having the strokes explained. At some point, they dive in.

Along the bank, the cicadas tuned up, singing their singular psychedelic tune.

But time does heal. Not like we think it does, not like we would—from the front—but more from the back or side or someplace we can’t see it coming. It bubbles up beneath and rises all around.

What you got comes from some place none of the rest of us know nothing about. That makes you special.