My travels over the years have taken me around the world. There was a moment when I was on a boat crossing the Visayan Sea on my way to the Island of Cebu in the Philippines. I was 14 years old and it was early in the morning, the sun not quite up and I needed some space. The boat was packed with people and even back then I needed my time alone. I made my way up from our cabin in the lower levels of the ship out to the deck. I wanted to get a clear view and it seemed the only way was to get to the front tip of the boat. I crossed the line beyond where passengers were meant to go, tripped on some piles of rope and made my way across the slippery deck. It was worth it, standing in that spot just at sunrise I could see nothing but ocean and a few small Islands off in the distance. I felt the wind and morning sun on my skin with a mist of sea water and the barrier between myself and the universe just melted away, I became one with all. That was the moment I knew that the Universe was an unlimited place and that absolutely nothing was impossible.
 Charity

Back to This
It’s back to this, awake and writing in the night, it always comes back to this. I tried to sleep an hour ago, the sensible thing to do, with the day I have ahead of me tomorrow. But these thoughts, they toss and turn me out of bed, into the night restless. I step out my back door, breathe in the cool midnight air and a story is pouring into my mind. With no outlet I would certainly go mad so instead of sleep I grab a pen or keyboard and let the words slip from mind to fingertip. I think of you and I wonder if you’re alone too, sleeping soundly, chasing a dream, chasing a girl. What does it even matter to me, when after every love affair, chance meeting, tryst or tragedy ~ it’s just back to me and a torrent of words I cannot stop, flowing forth from my mind in the middle of the night. I’m beginning to wonder if I even know what love is, when the only lover I’ve ever been faithful to is pen, paper and a cup of coffee. And I stand here in my kitchen doorway, nothing but a blue throw to protect me from the evening air, as I open the door, breathe in the night and wonder ~ do I bother to write or be sensible and try to get some sleep. Write it is… my love, my bliss, the only affair that ever worked out for me is this, it always always comes back to this.

June 2013