And so I glided, underneath the canopy of trees, that runs along that forked river. With its yellow lines, and turns. I went to all the old haunts. The places, the faces. The memories. The past. There I found solitude. Here I found sin, and rejection. right there, I tried. There, right there, is where the one I let get away, lives. Maybe. Left, right, … Continue reading Portrait Of The Path