The fire danced wickedly in its hearth, enticing the moths that flitted through the shrubbery which adorned the yard like sprigs of forestry. The air sung with the ticks of bats as the smoke attacked my eyes and nose. The night had drawn to a crawl as the sunken mouth of our tent began to beckon me to sweet dreams or tricksy nightmares. This moment is one in many but felt so different from the rest. For good reason...
Creativity is what I will strive for, no what I will to happen. This world is far to drab for the simplicity of abbreviated phrases and more importantly abbreviated lives.