Back in June 2016, I started a new "series" of posts... if you will... 
 And so on Wednesdays; I've been posting an old photograph to inspire your creativity.
Write a poem!   
 Plot out a short story.
 Have inspiration for a piece of art or composition.... let your artistic soul shine.
--and occasionally I write my own sordid story or poem. 
 (you can click on the photos in this post to make it larger to see).

The air was crisp. .. course, it would be at 6am... I thought to myself.
I had been walking all night... to where, I don't know. But I had to keep going.
I had been the lone survivor of a plane crash in the mountains. There had been 4 of us, a couple of our friends (he was the pilot), my husband and I. We were to fly over some of the mountains here in Colorado, before dipping down into New Mexico and stopping at Butte Lake.
Then we were to go fishing on our friend's houseboat before moving on towards Tuscon. But that was 3 days ago.
Before we all went hurling down from the night sky and into the darkness that was the top of some mountain.
Before the screaming. Before the noise. Before the blood.
Before all the shattered glass that I noticed under my feet started jolting me back to reality. Before I realized it was just me... and the sky.
I grabbed the few edibles I found in the wreckage, tossed them in a bag, wrapped it and a blanket around me as I headed off...
And now it was day 3 ... or 4? maybe... I don't know. Exhaustion has a way of distorting things.
I can see lights in the not too far distance now. I think it's a town. Not very big... but someone should be around.
Then I can call... the police? my parents? friends and family? and for what.
I don't know even where we landed. I can't tell you where I've been.
I just know I had to keep on. Keep on walking. Keep on breathing. Keep on living...

This is one of my favorites.. of the photographs that I have bought over the years from sales.
It always reminded me of clean mountain woodlands...
or at least... the stuff dreams/memories are made of.