Its going on three years since I’ve set foot back onto any camp ground. Surrounded by towering trees and tin cabins I am at peace. We gather in the living room to the sound of an acoustic guitar. Pitch black outside, but the sun forever shines in. Take me back to this day of a fantastic trip. Fears were faced and stronger bonds were made.

Dear Reader,

Why do we long for the memories of the past when we can create memories of the present? Is it because of what once was or the craving for that moment in time knowing it can never be recreated again?

X, -A