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Another picture that was taken in Arizona, I just found out that all my pictures of Arizona are ending up in the scrapbook section which is sad because these are my most treasured pictures. My most beautiful pictures. This one is of a place I'd escape to when I needed to get away and just think. This is the place I'd go to when I needed to commune with nature. I'd slip off my shoes and stick my toes in the cold, clear water and close my eyes and listen to the sounds of rushing water and wind, no sounds of the city, no sounds of cars rushing by, just pure nature. I could literally feel the wind push through me. I'd walk to that rock in the center of that picture with my shoes and a notebook high above my head and perch myself on that rock and sit there and write. I'd write my thoughts, and write what became some of my best poetry. The shame was that later on about a year later I got into drugs and partying actually not too far from there, about half a mile down there was a road and on that road a friend of mine lived there and we used to party. I introduced her to acid and she introduced me to pot. We'd party for hours and my boyfriend didn't like that. so one night he chased me down the main road that led passed this place and I lost control and went over a steep cliff getting stopped twenty feet down by a tree, I broke my ankle and fractured another spot on that foot. But I lost the notebook I had been writing in on that spot. Lost all that beautiful poetry I had written. I guess it was a lesson that had to be learned. I am sober now, but it took ten years to learn that lesson. Shame, huh?

Description
Another picture that was taken in Arizona, I just found out that all my pictures of Arizona are ending up in the scrapbook section which is sad because these are my most treasured pictures. My most beautiful pictures. This one is of a place I'd escape to when I needed to get away and just think. This is the place I'd go to when I needed to commune with nature. I'd slip off my shoes and stick my toes in the cold, clear water and close my eyes and listen to the sounds of rushing water and wind, no sounds of the city, no sounds of cars rushing by, just pure nature. I could literally feel the wind push through me. I'd walk to that rock in the center of that picture with my shoes and a notebook high above my head and perch myself on that rock and sit there and write. I'd write my thoughts, and write what became some of my best poetry. The shame was that later on about a year later I got into drugs and partying actually not too far from there, about half a mile down there was a road and on that road a friend of mine lived there and we used to party. I introduced her to acid and she introduced me to pot. We'd party for hours and my boyfriend didn't like that. so one night he chased me down the main road that led passed this place and I lost control and went over a steep cliff getting stopped twenty feet down by a tree, I broke my ankle and fractured another spot on that foot. But I lost the notebook I had been writing in on that spot. Lost all that beautiful poetry I had written. I guess it was a lesson that had to be learned. I am sober now, but it took ten years to learn that lesson. Shame, huh?