Standing there, listening to the ducks quack, as I sit with my feet hanging off the dock, with a small smile spread across my face as my pencil moves across the sketch book. This is the only way I'll remember where I had lived in the world. Well the little world we call 'America' the land of the free and home for the brave. Which all in all can be both true and a load of crap.
Deep down we are all scared for our own lives, and what might happen next but we can't predict the future. Some say they can but can they really? Are we going to put our entire trust into someone who thinks they know what will happen? I think not.
