Sitting here in the subtropical heat of south Florida, I ask myself, “And I left the Pacific Northwest for what reason again?”
Shoo-eeee!
If there’s anything my dadd taught me, it’s this: never spent your summers in your winter home — just too darn hot!
Anyways, whilst I was wandering the dirt roads of boreal forests, with snow-capped peaks peeking their heads around every spruce, I started losing track of myself.
I don’t exist, of course, but the remnants of the personality that is imaginary unraveled with each passing mile in a group of strangers thrown together unknown to us by travel agents knowingly.
By the end of the trip, I couldn’t tell a mountain from a skyscraper or a person from a caribou. Who?
Symbols are blurry here where turtles swim in alligator-infested canals.
You can see why…


























































