"save tonight, tomorrow i'll be gone, come tomorrow, the sorrow will be gone"
a way i feel from a quote from an eagle eye cherry song. For I am the one they are referring to, and the people who are going to be away, are my dad, my friend Liz, and some mysterious nostalgic unknown person to the readers, therefore gives me reason to conceal their identity, as much as I would like to give out the strangers name, its still in content (captivity).

So, shying away from the small talk about the remoteness and desolation. I will bring up the story of the day, I was about to get going on beginning a fire in the fire-pit, right out of my house, in the enclosed partition whatever its called...
Since there was some wood ready I was about to chop it into kindling, since there weren't smaller size pieces than the ones which were working with, it seems like a good idea, so long story short i get to chopping it and it back bounces (the axe) So I find myself with a wounded hand. Not seriously, just a bruised knuckle. The curse of the ol' wooden duck (>o<)