In the nights of mine, I sing until the fire turns to ember. The smoke drifts lightly, calmly, into the sky while the thoughts in my head drift forever down into the sum of who I am. They lay there, my thoughts, as the ember does in front of me. I am surely to run out of wood soon, for the fire. Perhaps I should, and tomorrow I will look for more.
4 Aug 2007 1:48pm
Jake Allen Fowler from Netherlands
"hey" whos face's are those in this picture. one is john, with a hat - and guitar. the other faces aren't as clear. also, there is a cooler in the backround, filled with beer no doubt.