Though I mainly prefer direct means of communication, thus shying away from social media, Instagram has become a prompt for prose provoked by mountain images. I sit to write captions and out come these vignettes. I hope you enjoy this sample and follow me over here for more. 

I was a raven, a doe—certainly no part of me was a woman. ripping through the brush-covered trail I thought about being eaten alive. the forest slashed at my thighs and arms, cutting off tiny bits of flesh for a snack. a storm, coming to summer from the approaching autumn, licked at me more than once tasting my hair and my face. the angry sun blanched me and when it was done the whole of the forest invaded my chest through the heart place at its middle. cracked open in my soft center the hills extracted my heart, dining lavishly and leaving no part of it behind in my ribs. I’ll have to grow a vestigal heart to replace the one the forest reclaimed.
— 6 Sep 2015
the drabness of late summer is gone, supplanted by these holy mercenaries of color. they proselytize to the mist while I sing silently to my notebook; sparse raindrops blot my words. this place’s loveliness consumes me. the fishing today is shit, worst ever in this spot, and I don’t mind for the good company of the wind and rain. being here I feel wealthy, like my living room is decorated in the color palette that most soothes me in each season and my kitchen is stocked with food taken at the height of nature’s cyclic stirrings. it is mid afternoon and I am chilled; a few minutes ago before the showers passed I could see my breath. this place foretells the changing of seasons. #magick
— 18 Sep 2015

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