
DAILY PHOTO: Forest Path
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In the ecstatic madness sits a different kind of bliss so untethered that you drift far from the familiar. There is no cord unwinding to snap you into place, and you may float into and out of your original face. And when one stands screaming, unwilling to be shooshed - naked as a J-bird - immune to being rushed, you may find a freedom that would terrify the rest: the homeless kind of freedom of the sanity dispossessed.
Thick clouds scrape over the ridge. In the foreground, sun-fired sands shine brightly, but the mountain behind has fallen dark, as if it's being marched over by the waves of a ghost army -- formless battalions that block the light. When that marching army reaches the nearer mountain, it will neither stop nor slow, but will crawl overland, coming ever nearer. the fore mountain shines, even as a ghost army closes from behind
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