I stood back and observed Multnomah Falls for the first time and I thought about dinosaurs, specifically pterodactyls swooping down and taking a few onlookers back up into the misty abyss. In the process of daydreaming about nonsense, as I so often do, I thought about you too.

I travel enough to know/feel that something is missing and that something is companionship, a hand to touch, a kiss to steal, a voice to listen to while I'm fixated on the beauty that's around me, around us. (Closes eyes) I'm not being sappy when I type about wanting to see things through your eyes. I wonder if you're watching the clouds move and thinking that their shape is a face or if you're seeing the way the trees lay, as if they're holding hands.

Today I felt the mist hit my face/my eyes, today, I observed couples staring at both space and time, all the while I was stuck in my space, paralyzed by time. Where has it all gone to, time, I should further advanced by now, you should be here.

Thousands of people have taken millions of pictures of this one spot, this place, not yet corrupted by time. Today, I stood thinking of you, thinking about how time is fleeting, thinking that I would love nothing more than to see the mist meeting your face.

In all reality, none of this will probably happen but I promise to capture the mist and bring it back to you and tell you the story of how it covered my eyes but for moment.