“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.