Viewed from the shelter of Fog Harbour’s luxury, Pier 39, a serene snapshot vessels tethered silently waiting, a single gull bobbing nonchalantly by sea-inspired dishes
Freedom is four hundred and fifty square feet of moveable tin, wheeling down the highway, destination unknown. It is long walks through exotic forests, where
On hold immobilized face pressed against glass pane repelling wind gusts stirring dust clouding vision forced to wait patience tested on hold.
Welcome to my country, there’s so much to explore. We really are a friendly bunch but there’s a few things we abhor So, we’ve written
“What is that?” a boy, two seats over echoes my thoughts “I’ve been wondering that too!” I blurt, disregarding social protocols. What are the protocols
He drives; I sit armrests down blanket secured seatback reclined. We are trucker-high panoramic witnesses living a transformer life – retractable walls, 6 wheels bus-like