ça reste vers 8 lundi

On my morning runs, I see people I know.  As I hit the vrai Aixoise mark, it is time to start packing up.  It is time to fight the current again.

I am hoping that this knocker or one like it will adorn my next house.   Even though I love it here, I cannot deny the itch that haunts the soles of my feet and it creeps. Starting in the center as a soft whisper stealing into my heart and limbs "Go West young Man, go West".  Maybe I am more of an United States American than I realize, or more likely I am just pulled westward by the fierce and raw attitude that still skulks between the setting horizon and living free.

Claire Foncée