Do flocks of birds decide when to fly and when to land? It seems like their wings flutter in waves. First the lift, then the pull, then the swallows turn the sky black and grey. Is there a sentinel that decides when or where to go? Or are they the perfect example of group think (I hate that term!), all deciding at once like some sort of cosmic yogic reactionary same being? If we moved like that, what would be the consequence? Some people do. They stay with their families, they travel in waves, they don’t break away.


I think I’m destined to be a predator. Lone, warm-blooded, always fighting for my next meal. My words will be as sharp as a sword and they will cut through thick flesh, turning the snow and the mud red.


"... all my lovers were there with me, all my past and futures."

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