the icy coastal range,

but it's more chilly within

the beach in winter

lost . . . .

just can't see the forest for the trees

losing oneself at the beach,

and totally losing one's way

turn right,

turn left . . . turn nowhere

it's not quite spring yet,

just can't wait . . .

lapsed memories,

of last week and today

gazing out the shuttered window . . .

escapism for the day . . .

another stairway . . .

to an unknown state of mind

at the dock.

take me away . . .

looking away . . . .

from a purported disturbance

a stairway to nowhere,

and a passage into the darkness

why turning your back,
on a sunny February day . . .

you win some,
and you lose some

waiting to exhale . . .

it's been years

an abandoned stage,

a forgotten existence

it all boils down to:

the fear itself

fifty-five #3,

dark side of the mirage

fifty-five #2,

a lost horizon

fifty-five,

reflection and refraction

above the clouds at Blackcomb's 7th Heaven,

heaven? what heaven. . . .

reality,
a chilling experience

a shock to the system,

skiing Whistler

Cuba Libre: architecture and cars

on the Caribbean Sea

One More Day . . . .

next week,
decompression

verging on a collapse . . .

a breakdown . . .
in the face of reality

just can't wait . . .
for two more weeks

give it up,
winter is here, again

a glimpse into a lost soul

a futile protest in a city of apathy

a break from the monsoon,
and a failed escape

one month anniversary,
but who's counting . . .

as week four drags on . . .

another new day in week three,
an experiment

surviving week two

rainy Sunday in week one,
with no end in sight

a new day,

one day at a time

no lifeguard today,
you're on your own

autumn in the woods,
where is the fall color

a glimpse of the past,
but it's fall already

abandoned,

summer is over

the last days of summer. . .

crossing the bridge. . .
or it's water under the bridge

a dark day in the world of opera

the overpass and the tracks,
and a summer that is fading away