Bottle Trees

One last flight from Washington D.C. to Denver-- the last of many. Planes, trains, taxis, buses and boats have brought me all the way around the world, back to the same platform where I said goodbye, where she said it back.  I'm sitting in the same phone booth where we talked about everything, 6 months ago. We talked about this day like it would never come, but we were wrong.

It feels just right to be home, to be here with you again.  To be concerned with nothing more than being with my family, sharing stories, adventures, and gifts, hugging my mom, smoking a cigar with my dad. 

   

May 20th, 2009.    

Everything in Parachutes

Shuffled through concrete italian spaces.

     Echoes of relics, artisans, monuments to centuries of great ideas whisper ever so softly in our ear as the goodness of the morning catches us by surprise, crashes over our heads.

 

     The line between you and me is no longer marked in distance, across continents, by oceans away.  Just one big piece brought together in a beautiful storm, in a breathtaking sunset you can feel in your bones. 

one great story. we are telling it all in the language of truth. 

 Its warm like family, hot like summer. Its all around you.