

Strawberry BlanketStrawberry BlanketStrawberry Blanket
Just south of my hometown there is a red sea: fields of strawberries that stretch miles from Watsonville to just north of Salinas. The earth's strawberry blanket,
spreading from the cold Pacific Ocean to the rolling green Santa Cruz mountains.
As I drive south to Monterey I pass the strawberry fields:
a splash of red flung out between the ocean and me. And I can smell them as I pass: the sweet pink scent wafting up and over the roadway, the dark rich odor of wet earth mixing with the sugar-sweet smell of strawberries, red and ripe


Thanks To You, My HeartThanks to you, my heart Can teach the birds a thing or Two about singingThanks To You, My Heart


Recollection[Her eyes were the kind of blue of which the sky was envious, but on that day it had made a valiant effort to match. It was spring; the sun was hot and high overhead.]Recollection
It was the day after a heavy rainstorm, because the sky was a rich and vibrant blue, mottled with the puffs of white clouds. I left Watsonville along Route 129, heading to the 101 and, eventually, San Jose. I had time to kill, and the Long Way was calling.
I turned off of 129 about halfway between Watsonville and the 101. A right from the highway onto Carpentaria Road; and another right onto Pine Tree Way; and then the house, there, at the
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Words are the only bullets in truth's bandolier. And poets are the snipers.
- Dan Simmons, Hyperion
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"You must be the change you want to see in the world" - Mahatma Gandhi
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"Philosophy is a walk on the slippery rocks. Religion is the smile on a dog. What I am is what I am. Are you what you are, or what?" -Edie Brickell
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Banescu Amalia
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