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.