Fire in the tea forests raining under dark dark caves, climb enchanted mossy cliffs of stories told swimming over hill and bridge, and faster faster stained purple blueberry mud paint somersaulted from the formations of aeolian lime shroomed points of vantage.

the early bird catches the worm..
yes but the second mouse gets the cheese.

And the grey spray spattered stinging across the deck.. minging.

today I found a book called, "the amateur poacher's handbook."
I'm learning to see the point of books. They are the record of the force and weakness of the human mind throughout history. Collective accumulative experience and reflection is important.
They are stored in libraries that have ingenious filing systems and are good places to shelter from the cold rain. Even as the entire human race ever there's a billion things we don't know. Maybe that's ok.


We are so tied down and chained up by our inability to commit.