Sunday, September 27, 2015


There is no such thing as chance; and what seem to us merest accident springs from the deepest source of destiny. F. Schiller

My mother told me of a spring that she use to swim in as a kid. It was located in the old neighborhood centered around a creek. The last time I hung out in that creek I was 13 years old. My friend had convinced me and another friend to join him in a battle against his brother and his brothers two friends. Within the first 20 minutes of our skirmish across the creek or "ditch" as we called it, I found an actual fiberglass bow tangled in some potato vines. I made some arrows out of all the bamboo that had taken over. I remember being so engaged in actually shooting my friends brother that once I actually landed an arrow. I dont think it pierced his skin, but it shocked me out of my tween addled berzerker head space. Every now and then I recall that story and marvel at the fortune of that bow.

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St. Augustine, Florida, United States
I spill ink ,it collects here.