Weight of Whispers

From the vaults. My last year in college, post 9/11 world. Air, breath, beating, reacting.

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Nothing is Personal

It was a time when I was alone, not ready to be with anyone. Scorched by the last love affair, nerves still scarred over. It was a Monday night. My friend Leslie texted me, the model for her life drawing class didn’t show up – would I want to model? I said sure, I can be there in 20 minutes. I grabbed a bath robe, drove through the snow, and before I had a chance to think, I was naked in a circle of artists. Next day, I wrote this . . .

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Good stuff happening at my day job

I love these mountains. I love the world we live in. I’m glad I can do good and in some ways integrate my passion for nature with my work-a-day world.

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