Plagioclastic Phenomenon

July 31, 2001


My mind has been clouded with insignificance. It seems that I have just recently been able to relax into my surroundings and explore my natural desires. Boundless. About a yard away from me, two elk are enjoying an evening by the river just as I am. As the outside air takes on a different scent and wind blows cooler through my skin, I can feel the ending of summer. The sun is setting leaving behind traces of pink and purple that are almost identical to the colored river rocks resting on the banks. Three more months. I am already becoming envious of my rear-view-mirror, but I will be coming back better prepared, much more aware, and as always, with a steady focus. It astounds me how massively strong this old river is. Boulders are smoothed over and carried for miles until the river’s maximum capacity forces it to drop a couple of tons. If only I could be as brilliant, knowing when to relieve myself when weighed down, and knowing when to push it as far as possible. My “self-hate trip” is slowly giving way to practicality, but I am still saving room for exaggerated proportions – my defense technique against boredom. There still exists an emptiness in my heart, and I have no clue as to why.

Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist