To feel that waking is another dream that dreams of not dreaming and that the death we fear in our bones is the death that every night we call a dream.

Jorge Luis Borges

The Art of Poetry

A waking dream is created - birds weave in and out through waves, escaping the mind's eye. Yet here, the moment ascends, the silence, the fall of the open space between the bird’s wings and the wind. And for one glorious instant the dream exists outside the death of waking.

Autumn Azure

The Trouble with Imagination

Pacific City is a best kept secret. I'm not sure how many people are aware of this beautiful oasis that reminds in a lot of ways of the Oaxacan Coast. Exotic blues, stretches of pale sand, undulated water. It is tucked away off of Hwy 101 along the Oregon Coast and is by far the windiest place I've been.

Jeremy and I often, as most people do, feel a lot stress in the city. While we're both city folk we both enjoy the openness of nature, the ocean, the world.

Luckily for me, the horizon was translucent, polarized without a filter. We had to climb up a steep dune and walk through very hot sand. We also had to contend with extreme winds, but it was worth the burn on the bottom of my feet because what was on the other side are what paintings and dreams are made.