January 2, 1999: Renewing my vow
“My little forest…” I stood on its it’s edge—the ageless stones staring back at me, the clogged stream continuing to move but in its own out of place way. “I shall never take from this forest.” My guarantee extended again and again. “Each morning I paint—I feel the begging, I see the sickness. I hear the departure of so many faceless dreams. To bring harm to your friends—all who make up this forest isn’t a poets dream. It’s a continued desire, a loyal passion to bring music in the most natural way. I’ll paint your silent words.”