“High high in the hills , high in a pine tree bed.
She’s tracing the wind with that old hand, counting the clouds with that old chant,
Three geese in a flock
one flew east
one flew west
one flew over the cuckoo’s nest”
I’m in a transitory phase. To what exactly, I don’t know. From transition comes confusion, and from confusion comes escapism. This blog is my escape: an escape to the pine tree bed, high in the hills, to a vantage point above the geese. Here I’ll write to collect my thoughts, my feelings, myself. Maybe I’ll write something nice for you to read.