Dock SpacL Available


Moving through the ether there are times when the sapient Homo needs to rest one’s weary bones, the struggle within without  becomes burdensome.  Look for the dock space available where one can, telephone numbers given.  Hollyhock, it’s time to think about what the sailor did before hand held electronic communications.




Lined up, read to go, providing mobile separation of the gaseous from the aqueous.  Oh that those who claim to know better were so obvious in purpose.



A cold hazy summer day, howling and biting atop the hillock, a past and passed haven now fallen to disuse.  Timbers scavenged for use elsewhere what remains is the tombstone remembering one explanation.



One thing is clear, whatever the reason Behind It All, that reason must be protected from anticipation itself creates.  Looking up is the optimistic view of what is to come yet we also see that this same attitude isolates and protects.  The future becomes a spear ready to impale the sapient who would dare attempt to scale the heights.  Concern is warranted but we observe that there is much more pointfree space to put one’s feet.