� The Tropical Island of... � 2002-02-06 � 7:52 p.m. �

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Celtic runs through me like blood... like water and wine....

I like being thrown into a pattern like without me the pattern would die.

I like knowing that I fit...

But no set place is my home. Pieces of my heart have fallen the distance... tasted the sands of both coasts...

Yet I feel like the far East of Canada is my true home... It's in its music... in its accent that I feel the most alone...

I think about the boys I knew there..... and how I miss their faces... miss their wit..

I miss the terrific food.. the spirit... I miss the fun.

How I miss the world of rocks and the view from the coast of Rocky Harbour or Port aux Basques... I miss it a lot.

I have piles of pictures to remind... and daily I look at that wall...

I listen to Great Big Seat... and I sing to The Night Pat Murphy Died as loud as I can scream

I like feeling like I belong... I like that nostalgia... I love that dream.

~I couldn't sleep at all last night... I had so much on my mind... I like to leave it all behind... but you know it's not that easy...Oh, but for just one night?~

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