Maine

Forested avenues line the city’s neighborhoods. Trees in summer hang over brick sidewalks, dipping passersby in New England charm and cool shadow. Duplexes of brick, with old tall pointed roofs and many windows, sit on State Street; they have been in the neighborhood since the 1700s. The hill slopes downward, into the land and away from the sea, down off the highest streets toward the park’s edge, where the glistening fountain waits there.

Ridiculous, curious, most likely delirious.

I love a great story, whether it comes in the form of words or visual stimuli. I believe everyone has a story to tell, and I love to share mine.

Please feel free to read along, comment, share your own stories, or send me a message via the contact page. Thanks for your time reading my words.

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