Darkroom

Self: Roll #1, Frame #1.

The early morning chirpings have come to a standstill. Winter has settled in and evicted my little feathered friends that reside on their branched homes next to my bedroom windows. Without their instinctual lullabies I begin to feel the solitude turn to loneliness as sleep confiscates my consciousness. They've left behind the generosity of my tropical fruit trees for the devotion of a tropical sun. Maslow would be proud. Maybe what is needed is a kiss goodbye and a faith in flight. Blow wind. Blow. Be the tempest in my lonesome heart's high seas. Weather the onslaught of salt-watered eyes, and salty emotions, and leave Poseidon's realm a new man. Strong. Resilient. Alive.