Strikes Your Eye

What should an old school bus be doing so far from civilization? Maybe a shelter for some hunters, or somewhere for the loggers to keep warm. Inside was an old woodstove rusted within an inch of its life, and unburned logs in the back. The trees slowly grow to form a prison for the past — that’s my kind of history, baby. Out here on what’s called Upper Cross Road, you’ve likely got all you want to yourself. Simple slip-along of silence, skirting puddles and rounding rocks, until something strikes your eye with interest from the norm. In the land of clearcuts, most of nature’s personality has been blunted and broken of individuality. It’s taken a tangled quality; clear as a headache, bright as a shadow cast. Fresh spikes of chaos when the clouds break.

April 11, 2026
Parker’s Cove, Nova Scotia

Year 19, Day 6726 of my daily journal.