The mini meadows of green grass that are scattered, strangely, amid the concrete chaos of our cities, emanating simple stillness.
The ruined relics of steel structures in the ominous outskirts of suburbia, which make for amusing adventures to ascend.
The wondrous woods when they are sunny and sublime, or when they are shadowy and secretive, perfect places for reflection and reverence.
The bountiful bookstores filled with timeless treasures on every conceivable concept, visited voraciously by aged, amiable souls.
The blissful beaches where the opulent ocean and the splendorous sky meet, giving tantalizing tastes of a promised paradise.
These are the sort of scenes that I meet myself in, and I often wondered why.
I realize, now, it is because these are the places that are my soul's likeness.
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Poems, journals and assorted writings of every sort about the details of my adventures in both the outer and inner worlds.
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