I stand on a bridge overlooking Spokane Falls, the residents of this town passing me with emptiness in their eyes. Perhaps because of the bitter cold, or maybe the few strangers I encounter have the holiday blues.
I can’t shake how I see the same look though everywhere I go, no matter what town I step foot in.
Frustration. Despair. Anger. Sadness.
Our planet, our people, is in trouble. Signs that were once meant to inspire now only seem to be a sad reminder of what once was….
I continue to wander the streets, contemplating these thoughts, when hunger strikes. I stumble upon a local organic market.Support local. Eat fresh. Feel better.
I find falafael, garlic hummus, pheasant and duck pate, with a fine local organic Roija to wash it all down. As I approach the checkout, an angel’s voice and smile greet me warmly. She gives me hope for humanity with her kindness.
I leave happy, glad to have come to the land of the Spokane Indian.
And you will go to Mykonos
With a vision of a gentle coast
And a sun to maybe dissipate
Shadows of the mess you made- Fleet Foxes.

2 Replies to “in the land of the Spokane Indians”

  1. Quitting my employment and having nothing but time lately has allowed me to explore, inside and out. But with the new year comes a new job.

  2. Great photos William. I love the one of the neon sign. Your style of writing has changed in in the last month; I would say more towards my type of melancholy. It feels as though you are looking for something? Either in your surroundings, whether that be city or desert, or maybe you're searching for something in yourself? What's going on Bill?

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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