The endless flow of people visiting from all the world's cultures, with the same goal of learning more about the Earth, were my schoolmates. Words, stealing my voice, then, leaving my thoughts empty with their visions. Clouding my own creative gifts with waters of brilliant energy.
Nature writes words with the blood of men.
Men read in nature, and give. They write, I read, I live, they bleed. I choke the sky in envy as her winds, wisdom spent, clears my breath. So I inhale their prose. My poverty given freely to the weary, sharing magnanimity.