We painted ourselves into a corner of sorts. There we stood reflecting on what this could have been if we were better stewards. This used to be a nice island where to reflect. Now it’s more a reflection of itself as it sinks into the sea.
Low tide will be here-soon and I can walk back home and clean my paint brushes.
And paint the island before it goes away.
Hello,
His friends observe Mark seems wired a little differently. Perhaps it’s more likely that noticing little things often missed by others is a relic of a quieter, simpler time. He has a way with words, which he refuses to let be hindered by sub-par typing skills. People have great stories to tell if you sit and listen.
A belief dear to Mark is that there is certain beauty in the world. You simply have to look for it.
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