As she rested her elbow on an old L.A. Weekly newspaper bin, she continue to smoke from a stubby discarded cigarette.
She then tells me,
“I have more than once made contact with the pavement and it wasn’t so gingerly either, the last time was at the corner of Fairfax and Beverly.”
“She paused, took the last drag of her cigarette and dropped it on the concrete between her battered boots, strange how the world looks from the ground up, I once saw an ostrich too……. all well…. life has no obligation to give us what we expect.”
A sunset drive on the A72 near Rosebank, Scotland. Standing sentry are ancient elders of oak, silver birch and pine that border the country lane which is empty of all traffic. With the windows down the crisp air dashes about and fills the cab with aroma of turf, heather and earth. For a moment my soul is lifted from all of life’s complications and I slow the car to a crawl to absorb every second. To my left is the River Clyde, running dark and silent as the sun ends another day in the land of my fathers. I am home and received by the spirits and magic of Scotland and yet I struggle to believe that I just saw a unicorn on the banks of the River Clyde. It was a magical mystery tour and I can’t wait to go back because Scotland is in my heart and soul.
Exposure and Other Worldly Morsels 