Week 3

4/9/12: The days get brighter in Bellingham and the mountain lay down so that everyone can see the ocean and demand we become sailors, not farm folk. The ocean mirror accepts the invitation of the orange favored pick of the season sky. The waters can only pretend to be the sky, but only if they allow it.
4/10/12: Whatcom County contains the essence of so many mountain secrets where temples from ancient times could've have hidden at the top of Mt. Baker. One with purpose to train the body and have your voice shout down the mountain and have power over others. But now people fear too much about their voice giving destruction and the fear allows them to be swayed from the voice of nature, until someone reaches the top of the mountain again.  
4/11/12: Down the street of Holly, there is a nerve cluster of the forgotten or brains that have been taken away by the repo folk. They should've seen this coming, but they couldn't remember of seeing this coming. They're the toughest sobs or dobs out there. They can sleep on cement, survive with only coins, and can get around almost anywhere. I want to help them come back to living behind walls, but then I stop when I remember they go around almost anywhere.
4/12/12: The haze of an April morning has a small enviousness moment of being its winter haze again. That the misery of winter with a golden glow of hope is what brings excitement for Bellingham. To know we are fighting the gloom and feel we have something to protect, but a sunny day would do the same as well.
4/13/12: Now that you've been walking around Bellingham for a few days, you'll notice that the daytime is devoid of most human activities and its more active at night. From what we hear of our local scientists, there is some pheromone in the air that makes people feel sleepy in the afternoon, but at night, they are all alive and ready to work. Here work just means having fun, since the Bellingham public thought "We already have shelter. Why not party and make beer?"
4/14/12: Bellingham contradicts the feeling for people wishing to live in this college town forever. The name sounds funny, like a pig who wished to be a sailor for the seas. A pig sensitive of other people's comments or anyone who touched his belly. Bellingham should be the name for a talking pig, nothing more.
4/15/12: The old buildings down town still stand to show Bellingham's former glory of old life. We wish we could stay in time where town a forest could learn to co-exist, but dominance mixed with business wishes to build safe docile environments in an artificial realm. Promoting us to keep active instead of the forest lazily grow and sloth with drowsiness.