I was but a wondering soul in a world so full of fate. Barefoot and cross eyed looking for nothing less than a hopeless romance. But this spirit I hold is that of an ancient Native American. This life I live is nothing short of a reckless fairytale. So as I wonder through wildflowers and tundra I write my life in simple sentences, awaiting the next wisp of wind that will carry me to yet another home. And these short collections of poorly written words is this. And this, my bohemian beloved, is my diary. The innocently forgotten thoughts of a Lone Alaskan Gypsy.
