Port Townsend, Washington
Illustration ~ Writing ~ Multi-Medium Storytelling (http://www.lastwebsite.io/)
3,995 words in 40 moments in 7 cities since July 17th, 2013
Port townsend — Waking up, I knew that today I could get whatever I want. Drinking two cups of Yorkshire Gold on an empty stomache further compels this belief. People and events that would once depress me in their ...
Port townsend — Every night I make my way home from town, via a local trail that navigates the zig-zag barriers between private properties, (somewhat makeshift paths like those made from cracks in ice, or lightning s...
Port townsend — Cloud banks roll over the peninsula, filling the sound with white walls that hide the sky. Biking, hands balanced out to the wet air - the smells of moisture, kelp and sea salt mingle with the cold m...
Waking to write, and watch Jack Frost work his winter touch.
In Nature we see there is no story, that every legend, fable, myth is desperate.
Every day, I wake early to the same morning.
Sometimes I wake up hopeful in the morning.
Autumn imbued twilight
Rituals: Bridge of blue stars
River grass like chopped acrylic.
Rituals on the beach
Hidden, we are free in the forest
Love is not a place to rest
After the musk and scent of sweat and desperate breath...
The Intruder that breaks the silence
An autumn night 3 years ago
The Morning is blue, and whatever happens is perfect.
When hiding under a tree...
The Paper Mill • Steam, engines, and the smell of piss and brocolli.
Finishing a letter to a dear friend, I leave the mess - keeping the sorcery alive, like embers in a ring of stones.
Brainstorming with Jared - on a walk through the woods.
Wrapped in wool, hugged by a giant chair • Alone with Jenny Hval and her electric toothbrush
Tea is ever the companion of philosophy • Symmetry
Sunk: until the tide goes out to leave you beached
On night walks, when the moon reflects cold, colorless light, the clouds look like moving continents, the darker sky behind them great and silent bodies of water.
Aspects of lighting
Menhir • Lighthouse • Vigil Stones
Faces coming out of the paper .iii
Faces coming out of the paper .ii
Bridges burned and built.
Reflections on the ferry
Afterglow through power lines • Surfaces lit from diluted light, like shields lifted to ward against arrows
Faces coming out of the paper
Sneaking across a private airstrip : beholding the clouds lit by a werewolf moon.
Fog horns before the city wakes
Roaming old haunts: Steel Mill
Traveling into town
Traveling the trail to work - wild bird calls and bright flora