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Hooted awake by a close-in Great Horned Owl at 4:15; thoughts of death. Not because of Native mythology but because Mazzy the cat was out hunting. Scrambled from the loft into the pale morning to protect her. Stayed alongside the river shivering with awe as the water gave birth to fog and dawn bled along the scalp of Yamsi Mountain then slid into my valley. Here kitty, kitty.

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Outside The Boxx is a place where I can put down some memories, collect my thoughts and opinions, relate my adventures, assemble my beliefs, and narrate my stories through words and photographs.


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