Today has been a day of clouds and silver-tipped trees outlined against the sky.
My travels take me outwards from the center like the travel lines on a spider web. Some of the roads are dirt and some are paved state highways. One heads north and anchors me to the mountains and another east to connect me with the ocean. The one which reaches out to the western hills is closed to me now but, one heads south and connects me to cities and art and performance. I’ll take that tonight to resume the figure drawing I’d let go. Ghosts haunt all of them and make travel difficult; yet if I don’t travel off the hill will there be a new day?
Angel in the dust