I was reminded today that words fall hard, weighed down by gravity; that if birds could speak, they would no longer fly. What does this mean to me on a rain streaked day? That unlike Chris, I have long deprived myself an outlet for thoughts themselves. What was so secretive, so discrete? I have no answer. Perhaps the words just didn’t come together until now.

So here I begin my own metaphysical journey–joining the millions of others whose thoughts float around in cyberspace like digital packing peanuts. Or perhaps there is some purpose for this after all, if not for my own gratification.  So, let it begin.