The winds shift, the seasons change, and the colors of the world begin to fade to the grays of winter... leaves skitter across sidewalks as they fall, and trees are stripped to their very core, devoid of the cover of summer. Mortality. 

The world from my vantage point is that of a quilt; each square a patch, and each road a stitch. The quilt-land stretches before me, as I, a humble Skyhawk pilot, drift across the horizon line in search of a new adventure. 

Salutations, friend! Tis I, the notorious aviator-by-day writer-by-night. Here you'll find a compilation of all my works, though the majority of them are the scribbles and notes of the little time I spend here on the ground.