Woe is me...

Many days had passed since my grand adventure. Laughter, good company, and great stories would never fade from my memory. But there is a small amount of remembering that fades with time. Specific wording to a fantastic joke, complete conversations that changed my life, or merely the look on Betsy's face when Jacs told her to change out in the wild...

But wait! Pictures can speak a thousand words. Written travel logs can replace the memory that fades. Pictures of good times, taken in the confines of a cabin in the woods, taken at the top of cliffs, taken in the three hours it took to reach that place, taken on horses and saved to the memory card for later viewing.

Alas, I cannot blog on this wondrous occasion as I do not have the pictures or the travel log to do it with. I am sinking into the depths of despair and woe.

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Real faces

A mask to the world. With light colors and happy faces painted on the outside. A sunny lie. Something different resides behind the facade. Nothing black or evil. But something different. The truth. The real face.

The face I don't like to see.

When the world looks at your face they see beauty and sunshine. Your pay isn't an actor's pay as much as it should be. Happiness that bright has to be of an actor's creation. Contentment and serenity dance a scene on your mask.

Weathered eyes see past the age old play.

What lies behind. The thing of masks is their holes. Flaws. No matter the finesse of the painter, there cannot be perfection. Sight would never be sacrificed for such.

Eyes. Windows to the soul. Souls cannot lie. Eyes. Two way streets.

No contemplating on what lies behind. Studying what is seen is a dangerous game to play. Knowing what resides there behind the pretty mask stutters the painting's beautiful image. All feel the unrest and the dissonance. To discern the origin of discord requires well-traveled eyes. A hard road traveled.

A road never traveled twice.

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