the white stones shifting beneath my feet, this wind. this rain, the way the steely sky trickles down to kiss the sea, the indistinct rumors / hints / echoes of mountains where the mist has slept with the trees.
vast, inconsolable:
the cliffs whisper to me of their endless journey to the horizon, and captured in this fragrant brushstroke of balsam and pine I feel the damp northwest morning soak into my skin, and suddenly there is an itching of feathers and salt in my veins.
{evergreen, wild}
for a second, I bite into the marine chaos of these dancing whitecaps, and it is just as you promised.
untamable.
pacific.
the drive up to whistler is absolutely breathtaking // falling hopelessly in love with the pacific northwest