Tuesday, May 20, 2008


Ah, my first pocket knife. The responsibility. The privilege. The trust. Its blade was only a couple of inches, but a couple of inches of unbounded opportunity. The carving in the thick pine trunk. The milky blood left running down sharpened steel and bark empowered me. The world would know I existed. Jeff was here. My mark was left on the tree for what I thought would be eternity. My knife, capable and strong.

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I am recent graduate just looking at the dirt, writing about it.