Along the Yukon River I'll make my presence aware. Playing quietly in a lighthearted cotton skirt immitating the patterns of the waves. Beach rocks will find their way into my hands as an ever growing addition to the collection already fulfilling my kitchen table. Driftwood will be climbed upon, rested on, and admired for it's water ravaged shape. And avoiding boats I'll make my way to the same scenery with simple inklings of a difference. Tracing the path of the riverbend hundreds of years in the making. Old fishing nets haunting the landscape with tales of salmon and pike. The rocks burying into them the same way they do the soles of my boots. And together with the breeze and sun I'll discover small peices of this enormous world. Small peices that are the world to me.
