Every year as Halloween approaches, our maples drop their leaves, the marigolds turn to seed, and the landscape changes from brilliance to black and white. Like clockwork a northern wind races across our bare fields and one can hear it howling through the cracks. While observing all this external starkness we move indoors and begin to question our mortality.
In my twenties I moved around tons of times. Yes, tons. From the East coast to the West coast and back again, from the bottom of Florida to the hills of New York, and from mid-west Michigan to northeast Vermont. Each move I packed up the bare essentials and gave away the rest. Possessions came and went. Each move was fueled by adventure and possibility far greater than material goods and I never looked back.
Why are people putting Morgan Page, the two-time Grammy nominated artist, and the larger-than-life Michael Jackson, in the same sentence?
Nine Cent Girl 