If you don't get lost, there's a chance you may never be found.
Friday, February 3, 2012
WHITE ROCK L△KE
A few weeks ago when I returned home to Texas, my lover and I took a little trip down to White Rock Lake. The water was almost flat with only a slight breeze dancing over the blanket of water to create little ripples in the fabric. We held hands, ran after an ice cream truck like little kids, and watched the sunset, and now I find myself on the other side of the country, daydreaming of the calm, dying to get away from the calamity of this city, Washington, DC.