Looking for the way I think when I am writing. It’s almost interesting – thoughts are much more colorful, more prolific, not stunted and ripped away at the end of a paragraph, not the two or three lines that I’ve been conditioned to think in through letting Facebook regulate me, then down to nothing… gods, I miss writing.

Time to get back to it. Back to the color, back to the imagination…

Last night when I returned to my motorhome I sat down, took a look around, and realized how much I truly love living in this. A c of my own, my home, a place that I know I can escape the world outside and simply be alone to read, relax, think – or not think about whatever I wish without any disturbance. I’ve been making it mine, a perfect place to think, to create.

I love the way that right outside my door lies the street, the world, waiting, inviting, and oblivious to whatever might happen in here. I love the way I can move the door anywhere I wish – and have this door to escape all that I want to leave out there.

More work on the motorhome today, getting her ready for the times where I will just hit the road and keep on going until I find that special place that calls to me, whether it be by the ocean, a lake, in the mountains, another city – anywhere, everywhere…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Coming back to life, coming back to performing – I’ve been gone far too long from the stage, and it’s nice to feel my blood pumping again…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Well, that was a little something – almost. In time I’ll find my writing mind again, I just need to remember the words that sing…

Now, time to get to work.

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