I go out into the blue-sky morning, searching for tranquility.  The nearby Lutheran Church bells ring through my abandoned town…the wind performing roll call of forgotten names into the air.  I feel the chill in the air between the courthouse and the post office.  Seems I have been searching my whole life for tranquility.  However, all I find are mountains that hold painful memories.

 I carry these things with me into a room of hardwood floors and white-washed bookcases.  Journals…my agony littering, bookmarking every page.  They sit on these bookcases…begging for life…begging for release.  I walk past them…open the shades to witness the last hours of the light.  I resign quietly inside myself, give myself to my pen…to leave my footprints on these pages that have become my prison.

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