As kids we'd share our dreams in notes we'd leave in handmade origami mailboxes & taped just outside one another's bedroom door. There was a reoccurring dream we had, filled with mysterious pools of glow and oddly shaped silhouettes standing atop hoodoos in a desert. The mysterious glow reminds us of our sister, Whitney Angelica. Her eye's were deep crystal blue and when you looked at her they'd reflect into you like mirrors beneath sparkling water filled with absolute magnitude of light. Oh the arcs and twists siblings experience together. Childhood in Vermont was boundless. We were free to explore forests, climb 100ft pine trees, make ice-skating rinks, ride snowmobiles, shoot shotguns and aggravate hornets that built nests in our well every year. We lived on Pearl Street down the road from a cavernous sand pit that was home to the softest sand we'd ever stepped foot in; with big cliffs we'd run and jump off of; into sand we'd slide and laugh. The pit was surrounded by massive gravel pillars shaped by valley wind and rain, golden colors of ripe wheat & rusted red scattered about a verdant terrain. It was our great escape from brutal worlds. I'm happy to feel sensations from memories past. It's nice to remember those pages of our book.