I came to Savannah in my exploration of what it is that had a hand in creating
me, bringing me through time this far, wondering how much further I have to go.
I am constantly searching for something inexplicable, something that eludes me
like a ghost. I come close. Its always, like a de Chirico painting, some
shadow right around the corner.
have felt things and seen things and experienced things that I dont understand
until later, much later. I write things that make no sense, only to rediscover
them years later having been prophetic to what happened in between that time.
I hear my voice, I hear my voice... and it hasnt been silent, just foreign
at times. But the music is always there.
And the elements, they change
hands within me. Sometimes fire rages through me, and I am so overwhelmed by the
amount of heat inside I have to stop and breathe, or I will turn to ash, on the
street. Other times, waves and tides of rushing water swirl and I cannot control
the movement, only flow within it. Still other times the winds come and I long
to be... elsewhere.
have climbed to the top of Mt. Holyrood in Edinburgh, Scotland, and got deliberately
lost in Piccadilly Circus. Ive stood and looked up at the Empire State Building,
and been to the top of the Sears Tower. Though Chicagos Botanic Gardens
were much more like being home for me. I drove through the Blue Ridge Mountains,
feeling claustrophobic, longing for the sea. The Great Lakes State will always
be home, the woods, the lakes, the trees. My wish list reads like a travelers
grocery list: Macchu Picchu, Kyoto, Tuscany, The Serengheti... I am writing my
way to being there.
in my backpack...