Feeling strange and nostalgic about the past. What could have been but never was. I’ve held but never had. Seen but never felt. Imagined and hoped for. Illusional memory. Subconsciously drifting; cutting through new waters with the same wade. Same pace, different place. Different people - same floating, same drifting, floating along. The light peaking through the leaves, through the shade; the cold.

Remember that time Danny and I dove into the water. We just went with it. Daring and cold. Fucking stinging nettle. It was exciting and I felt adventurous. I wonder if the trees saw a different side of me that day. I’m usually there in my spot - trolling. Stoic, pensive, and resting. Lost in nature. Running to run away. Running to catch my breath. To reach the bridge, and troll. Think and smoke. Am I scared? Maybe I should be. Maybe I should be afraid to rest on the soft sand of the bottom of a creek. A tired traveler gets weary sometimes. The sand is so inviting and my eyes are heavy.

-This is about escapism, being daring, and getting away from your troubles taking a nap in quiet woods on soft sands. How beautiful and silent it can be but also dangerous. What if you’re sleeping unsuspecting of any type of danger, and it creeps it’s way in. Even though it’s possible you do it anyways because of the tranquility and beauty. It’s worth the daring adventure despite the risks.