i'm embarrassed by a lot of what i write or say but you know that. i would have wanted to say something you would want to read. it's ok. i remember on gabriola, i was lost then too. such anguish in such beauty. you remember, i get lost so frequently. i used to stare into the wood stove, pouring my dark thoughts in, watching the pulsing embers. the radiant energy in an arbutus log, contained and released and long lasting. what does it mean? nothing, probably. transference perhaps. meaning what it is, turning into. but there are moments when i feel so alive, and i don't want to get lost again, or die. we can't stay for long anyway. it's a shame to be lost when we don't have much time to waste. i want to be grateful i didn't leave.