A blanket of fog has settled over Vancouver this week.
I spent so much time in the forest this summer, and now I find myself back, chasing after the fog.
It has gotten a new coat since the last time I saw it. It has wrapped itself in a quilt of clouds.
Everytime I breathe, I imagine that I am stitching more patches.
"I know a place with many trees," He said, "Come and find me there."
...
...
...
Tonight, I turn on the TV to fill the empty spaces, but it is already so full; fuller than I could imagine.
Tonight, my mother looked like a train station, but the tubes don't bring cars full of people into her veins.
Sometimes, the waiting period feels so mundane.
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