I loose my eyes and soul on the road, over hills and suns knowing it will be easier to find my way at night. I am surfing, on a road, on a wave but I know, all roads have a beginning and an end; all waves a crest and a bottom. Are we all thieves? Thieves of brief moment of either sadness or amazing happiness, and everything in the middle… Thieves looking for golden moments…
A Fish on a Hill 