I felt as big as a mountain with the bolt cutters slung across my shoulders. Three weeks ago, when the summer had reached its solstice I had found them packed deep down in the trunk of my car.

When so many things stop and they clatter, up in the jabambaway things hip, hop and shatter. For up in this place a great WHO lurks about For the little who-whoians ask and they pout. For the lorax knows best, so the Lorax puts those who-whoians to the ultimate test!!

Every summer I had to go down to my aunt and uncle’s house in Nebraska. There was never anything to do. They didn’t live near any kids or other people to accompany me. They didn’t feel like they needed cable TV or internet because they were just all-around boring people.

What are we here for?

Might there be a purpose that is more?

Maybe only time can tell the true meanings of our lives; it doesn’t lie.

That’s the power behind our efforts that continue till we die.