Mountains

I used to live here for awhile. It was heaven. Wood burning stove inside for cooking. A small loft for sleeping upstairs. Pipe from the stove came through and kept me warm. I would boil peanuts outside in the caldron. Water, salt, peanuts, a good fire and 4 or 5 hours of soaking. Tasty little treats, once you get use to them. I lived off the land. I recorded music here, made some albums, sold them for money to help with the little things which required such currency.

I wish I could go back. I have to go back. Perhaps somewhere new but obviously somewhere old. It will soon be time to move somewhere where we can feel the air, away from this dismal smell of our current location. Our days now just seem to pass away, filled with many pointless repetative movements. Soon I will pack up the wagon, and with my wife and dogs, go somewhere worth our full breaths.