the weariness of perpetual sunshine

El Gato mira

Last Flight of Captain Steve Grave

The Flight from where he was in this world, into the fantastical unknown and next one, ended at the speed of his wing, disappearing into the wind, then quiet and he was known no more.

the LA River, a place to hide

Leave here, turn eastward and hide in the Kerith Ravine, east of the Jordan

patience for prophets

I've commanded ravens to feed you there

All the excellent arrows for the stranger

Consider the Birds...

behind a glass case in the natural history museum

not far from africa

Portland: to rest my bones

fire side expressions

rainy evening in the lone fir cemetery 

after the owl the rave said Hi