"It’s from that comfortable perch where you’ll set your glass down and reach for his Nikon. You’ll snap another photo for this year’s album before adorning your german heritage enriched matriarchal tone and warn him,  “You’ll cut that up into steaks, not fillets. I like the Kings as steaks better than fillets.” From behind his mustache a subtle smile will crack open and you’ll see it more in his eyes than from his lips. He’ll heave the mammoth fish onto the table of the cleaning station and carry out your instructions to task. It’s late June and the sun will be up all night. You’ll have to keep an eye on the clock when you return home to the cabin, or he’ll be out far too late tending to his yard and garden. Though, it will be nice to have the latter part of the afternoon to yourself, so that you can cook in the kitchen without disruption. You’ll package the salmon steaks into freezer bags and process them in the vacuum sealer. Then you’ll start a spaghetti sauce and saute some clams for dinner. As their shells begin to open, you’ll discard the ones that refuse to surrender. About that time, you’ll call him in to wash up and set the table. He’ll set out the simple but aesthetically pleasing white and green porcelain plates featuring silhouettes of bull moose. Then he’ll retrieve two Nachmann crystal glasses from the neoclassical vitrine stationed near the south window of the dining room; where the sun can most effectively showcase the beauty of the multi-colored array of imported diningware you’ve collected. He’ll set aside his caveman-like modus for an hour, so that the two of you can drink a bottle of aged Silver Oak from hand crafted Bavarian crystal, and engage in a deep conversation about anything and everything… or nothing. He’d do that for you. He’ll always do that for you."

"Between my homes in the natural world, an intermediary exists.  A purgatory for which I routinely pass through by unnatural means, surrounded by unnatural creatures, in an unnatural environment. I navigate through the crowd of aimless bipedal animals as their eyes remain fixed on the fluorescent glow in their palms, and they bounce off each other, moving with only a semblance of intention.  I join them as we stack upon one another in a metal container and it burns the hydrocarbons left behind by ancient life, which serve to thrust the vessel into the atmosphere."