Semi-Daily Scribbles

It wasn't the daring act of crossing the globe that troubled Frederick. He needed to leave behind the fractured allegiance and hollow sympathy of his family. They didn't like his artist's heart; he didn't understand their dispassionate love. An ocean divided the generations that sat around the old oak table. No, what brought disquiet upon Frederick's mind was the unshakeable knowing of his diminishing presence. His life was shrinking. He had been doused, and wrung out, and hung up to dry so many times, his skin no longer fit. His ideas had grown too big for his head. It was then that Frederick understood he needed to stretch out, as far and as wide, his remaining days. He had just enough time to get beyond the breakwater and dissolve into the unending gray. Once he lost sight of land, Frederick fought to release the stranglehold he had over his own soul.