Just a man, his dog, and his truck.

Words put into tangible form spark the curiosity of our deepest perceptions. And now, straight ahead, he saw his son dangling from a rope. His body, limp as a marionette without a puppeteer. Where had God gone? He thought. He stepped forward and was buried alive. How many single lines woven together form one arm? Life .

Dusk of the long distance,. Beneath the mantle of lament. The peak bloom, gnawing decay,. The weight of favor;. Annealing fire, moulded by. Unfastening the raw surf of sorrow. Incipient caprice, theft of occlusion. Colored by common defiance,. The tangled weave, pathos and ethos,.

I leave in one month. I worry I will be forgotten. I worry that, while abroad, I will miss everything back home and get back too late to catch up. I worry that the time difference will hinder my ability to stay in contact with the people I want to, and their ability to keep me updated on their lives as well. I will come back and I will be okay.