He was standing in an old road, rutted and ancient, that wound up a black hill towards the sky, where a great flock of black birds was gathering. The birds were like black letters against the grey of the sky. He thought that in a moment he would understand what the writing meant. The stones in the ancient road were symbols foretelling the travelers journey.
24 May 2010
No One But Myself
To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment. - Ralph Waldo Emerson
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