I am currently lost in the wonderful meanderings of John Steinbeck's 
Travels With Charley: In Search of America. Each night I read a few pages in an effort to savor and enjoy each drop of poetic wisdom that drips from his fingers. I have such a fondness for John, I fear I may never recover my spirits enough to love another.
 
(Well, except for the occasional crush on Chicago basketball players sporting hair buns;  
I promise my heart is not as fickle as it might appear)
Lost, not to be found, 
MK
 
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