So many impressions. So many moments. So many folks. Could I paint feelings? Fleeting images? Shall I try? Think Monet.

Beautiful wood floors, *click, click* of the heels as I pass from here to there. Warm redwood walls. Each window different, yet clear and open, Come, look! What do you see?, each door jam settled in it's place. Each owning it's own space. Inviting, friendly home. Scent of old house, coffee and pumpkin bread. mmmmm. I like this place. It spoke to me. Stay a while, come listen to some stories, so I did.

The stars fell down upon the hills of Elay for a time. The steady hum of traffic gave way to the warm laughter of new found friends. Arms, hands, and smiles followed by squeezes, presses, and sparkles.

I know you. Do you know me?

Intelligent articulate voices wrapping around the outside winding their way into and through me. Five conversations at once. I felt like the tuner knob searching to hone in on first one then another unable to decide which station to listen to first. Buzzing merriment in between.

Do I want reggae? Jazz? no, no old time rock and roll? or what about...

I wanted them all at the same time. It was being set loose in a candy store at age five. Go pick out ONE and you can have it. Pick? I gotta pick? Yeah, right. I snuck in as many as I could, flitting from here to there, tasting this and then that. I'll take one to whatever you're saying. Can this be packaged into an everlasting Gobstopper? Yum.

Translucent, multicolored triangles glowing, capturing the light, bending it, changing it, making it softer, then passing it back out to those gathered round. Luminescent legumes lined up amongst glittering snow drops. Glimmering bubbles suspended in space and time. Shimmering halo dancing about the moon. This was your aura seeping into me.

Do you know how precious you are? Do you? Well you are.

Bright eyes took in the sights. I wonder what they saw? He is like me circling around the edges, gathering ... something. Blue, they were blue. and busy. and smiling. Teddy bear hugs are warm and strong and no holds barred full of feeling. Touch is a powerful conduit of emotion. Damn, this one smells good. Keep your eye on him. If you drop your attention for one second, you are lost. Attentive gentleman, yes he was. I noticed this. I want a cookie from him. I think I should be concerned about my kid going through the same highschool as these two. Strangely enough, I'm not. This one did not bite, not even a nibble. He would have tasted vanilla. This one overwhelmed me a bit with his sharp humor. He was almost too bright to see. I watched beneath hooded eyes from afar. So many smart people! My brain was humming, trying to grasp concepts. Did you hear it?

Inquisitive, investigative, intelligent, seductive, tell me all your secrets eyes. Her script puts a typewriter to shame. If I could write like that, so precise, so clear, so neat, Borders wouldn't sell so many journals... He can handle more balls than I, that much is apparent. And..he does so with panache. Cool confidence personified. Epitome of a with it mom totally not concerned about the party the kids were throwing back home that she would never find out about. She's got attitude. If you missed her pumpkin bread, you were gypped.

This one is warm coffee, sweet and creamy. This one felt like a carousel ride. Did you see the lights in her eyes and hear the music in her voice? Were you close enough to catch it? What about the glitter of this one? Snowflakes under moonlight. Subtle humor, quiet laughter, a summer's breeze, simply light and refreshing.

Very well-spoken, very intelligent, piercing eyes. Sharp dude. My money would have been on that one if it had come down to a chessdual at the lodge. Boyscout, musta been. Worldliest boyscout I've ever met. All inclusive smile, that reached to the eyes. Genuine friendliness. So much to say. So much awesome style and oompf in the delivery. Tell me more. I am listening. And this one... This one is gingerbread, with a cool dollop of whipped cream. I must be honest. I did not expect to meet this one. Words failed me, whooosh out the window. What does one say to one whose writing you've admired for so long? His hand is warm. His voice is warm. His eyes are warm. He is gingerbread.

Did these brush strokes on a blank canvas work? Do you catch a taste these people? Are you still hungry? I am.