"Just returned from a walk on the golf course. The sun was setting and the clouds were red and orange, while the sky underneath them at the horizon was a bright blue, and the course itself was green, and oh so quiet. I wonder if you ever get quiet moments or places like this where you are? It reconnects me to feelings I had when I was younger - feelings that fade a little when you become an adult, because we don't have words for them. But when I am out there, alone, and all is quiet and far from the things we know every day, then I remember."

The places are arbitrary, because the moments are never contained to one locale or season - as you know. I think they were different when I was younger, because now I find they fill me with a profound sadness; perhaps because I have never been good at accepting gifts, and being caught breathless in a moment that deserves sharing and having it all unto myself is weighty and leaves me undeserving. Perhaps just because I accepted these moments as a child - the sky dotted with lines of changing leaves, the shore lit up by a storm, concrete and grass alive with dancing raindrops - and now I am less kind to myself, and so I question what I am given.

But I see your walk across the golf course in my mind's eye so vividly, and that feeling, and who's to say we can't share these moments even at a distance?

Art (c) J. "Rehgan" Fitzmaurice