Letters to Ethan 2

Dear Ethan,

I’m not sure why, but I find myself doodling snails on my margins when my thoughts escape me. 

I’m baffled, but the rational side of my mind always finds a way to explain my musings.

 An endless spiral that I want to escape from; the longer it grows the more my fears shriek! 

This endless curve of road drag me down and down and when I think I’m about to jump, the pencil turns into something unexpected. 

The head of the snail forms and I am baffled once more. Could the head represent the randomness of life? 

Or am I still trapped in the spiral? 

A spiral much like a whirlpool against the tide.

The ocean of Corpus Christi has many dangers; yet it is still a place I long to return to near the days end. 

Can Corpus be called a sleeping fishing hamlet? 

I think it so, quite often. Is Corpus sleeping? 

When it turns days so busy and focused I don’t know how it does. 

Oh Corpus, beautiful and cold, how you baffle me…

Swirling In It, 



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