Today, oddly, as it clouded up, Mt. Baker began to slowly appear in the distance, a white ghost barely visible against a backdrop of white clouds. It's like the memory of a mountain, the imprint left on your lids when you close your eyes, shining softly on the horizon.
Caterpillar sheds his skin to find the butterfly within.
First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.
-- Donovan
Posted by: Barry | 19 July 2006 at 07:45 PM