A man of conflict and balance.
Romantic, yet pragmatic
I believe in everything, yet remain skeptical of when everything will be relevant or true.
In the daytime, I have no fear of death or the natural world around me, though I may keep a cautious eye on my environment; yet, at night, a supernatural world contains an equal reality and holds sway over my judgement.
Fantasy version:
I travel from town to town—Seattle to Bellingham to Butte to Casper to Kalispell—watching the people and imagining the heart of their lives. I see women and hold them in fantastic romantic regard, with the unexplored possibility of what might be without considering the mundane reality of a life of routine, practical concerns, or pain.
These are villages from a bygone age where the folks still had thoughts and dreams and passions in another context, but with the same soul.
What if my steed was more than the Subaru Outback, a motorcycle, or horseback?
What if shelter wasn’t an apartment, hostel, or tent?
What if my whim and will determined reality? How then would I solve issues of survival and human interaction?
*I create a pocket existence that obscures me from observation (a la Tardis)…perhaps the level of security radiates to other lifeforms (aliens? supernatural beings? divine?) in other worlds and dimensions…or those magical passersby sensitive to such things. I’ve lived with these gifts for some time, but they still seem new to me. Each time I achieve a new manifestation—creating a pocket sanctuary or instantly transporting to another location—I run the risk of attracting attention from something of greater ability. So far, these encounters have been minimally distracting and rarely hostile, but that doesn’t mean the next encounter will be so.
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