Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Chattanooga (Never Gets Old)

Way up on Lookout Mountain, all I could think was "I belong here." I've planned future picnic lunches here, in this very spot. Just me, a thermos of soup, perhaps a panini, and my notebook. That's how I know I'm going to end up there someday. In the end, I always seem to do what I intend; I've never not.

0 Things not left unsaid: