Daniele Zanandrea

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Daniele Zanandrea
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Lost in America I would love to take this trip to a small cozy cabin and disappear into the fog.

A glance over the shoulder a whisper in the mist, an echo through the trees. Spirit travelers, shamans and tricksters. As surely as his paddle slices the surface, he knows he is not alone. Poem by Wintercove Paddler in the early morning mist.