Calastinia is a land of my creation. This world lives in the ink and other such mediums that I sketch out it's map with. My loves, my hates, my faults, they all live in Calastinia.
I write, explore randomly around the town I live in, and I often forget what I was doing whilst exploring. I stare at the sky, night and day. I kick rocks when I walk. I sometimes miss the mark, trip and fall. I like water. I like calm music. I like loud and rambunctious music. I want to live by the ocean one day, preferably the Pacific. Not in a town or city, maybe a village, but secluded from humanity but close enough to see and touch it. I want to one day own one pair of shoes and live off of what my writing can bring in. I want simple living but the type of simple that is elaborate. I'm rambling on I suppose.
The wolf danced with the sun and it's dark shadowy fur pushed itself against the rays. Twisting and meshing into one the sun and the wolf. The eye in the sky.
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