I feel like I should be smoking a cigar while sitting
on a wide house porch somewhere near the bayous of New Orleans.
Where the air is un-still and I have no sense of will, just laziness as I
sit in a large wooden rocking chair listening to The Dave Brubeck Quartet.
But when I’m listening to Vince Guaraldi I’m sitting on a porch during the Fall
within a rain forest build for Home. Everything is perfection and both are considered
Home.