I get attached to my stories, for they are my memories. They are my experiences.
I feel sad when I have to leave each one behind like a trail of bread crumbs.
They lead back to where I started from, and they lead right back to me.
Crows and squirrels, mice and bugs – even the roots of trees – may consume what I have done, thankful for this temporary sustenance.
Like a mythical creature born to roam as the only one of its kind, I continue forward to seek the sunlight’s dappling.
Candid Corvid Productions 