couldnt resist the spray of rain. a day on foot for reasons that need not see the light of day. stepped into nostalgia and looked back more than once. seeds picked up off and stored in a pocket for the remainder. yest the colors are that color but the smell, you wouldnt ever understand. its beating in your lovers chest. amplified and the color of orland in october. should i have gotten lower, maybe closer, yes but an ocean still churns and amazes. a long time ago, firsts were spent cliffside and along a silver cloud. seagulls afloat and afading into the scene. occasional pelicannal. from there i filmed that risky fuel, contemplated the beginning and lost another to planks. it feels portland out now. it smells of home. and jason molina is perfect with this. even or not this is where i wanted to be, and a little more up beat.
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