Post #1

Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone
By streams that never find the sea
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains of the moon.

Roads go ever ever on
Under cloud and under star,
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green
And trees and hills they long have known.

-JRR Tolkein

My name is Tim. I grew up in Small Town, America and couldn't wait to get out... few open doors, fewer open minds. Eventually I made the trek to the big city and got a job working for The Man. Nine years goes by and I realize it's killing me. Sure, I met the love of my life, had a son, met some great people, and did some fun things in that time, but they are the shining stars in an otherwise empty sky. Small Town, America, with all of its faults, is looking like a pretty nice place to be. So, "...feet that wandering have gone turn at last to home afar..."