Living for five years with the California countryside as my backyard was a beloved escape, it filled up a place in my heart very much in need of the quiet solice of eerie and spooky soulful abandon. It brought me to a rekindled feeling of childhood, when all the world was an intriguing place to explore. Ocean fronts were clouded over in solitudinal mystery and the rolling hillsides layered over farmlands held behind their fences and gates huge skeletal shacks of farmhouses empty and waiting to be filled up with stacks of dreams. Long drives far across grassy fields and poorly paved roads gave food for thought while the skies opened up into heavily patted rains to grow the little seedlings I planted there for my goals and desires.
Little did I know then and there, staring up at sunsets and long into the chilled nights with the seemingly endless tent of burning stars blanketed overhead, what I would come to, who I would know, or where those dreams would take me. It's a funny thought that life is this river we are swimming through... knowing we may reach something new at every bend, but unknowing what will come. I should like to think that whatever the water, life knows best, and our little rafts made of paper dreams and cutout stars will stay afloat.