Tea at the Palaz of Hoon by Wallace Stevens

Not less because in purple I descended
The western day through what you called
The loneliest air, not less was I myself.

What was the ointment sprinkled on my beard?
What were the hymns that buzzed beside my ears?
What was the sea whose tide swept through me there?

Out of my mind the golden ointment rained,
And my ears made the blowing hymns they heard.
I was myself the compass of that sea:

I was the world in which I walked, and what I saw
Or heard or felt came not but from myself;
And there I found myself more truly and more strange.
~

Admiring nature, willing to learn to train my senses and pollinating my peers~
shaky hiker with national geographic aspiring photography

UCSD student double majoring in Cognitive Science- Neuroscience and linguistics and Environmental Systems (at Scripps) with courses in Cross Comparative Physiology, Ecology, Genetics and Animal Communication. Hoping to further my knowledge of local environment, natural behaviors, including birdsong, prey capture, localization, electroreception and echolocation, and the neural systems that control them, emphasizing broad fundamental relationships between brain and behavior across species.

still pupating
~