When I was a child, I wanted to write all over my walls. Sometimes, I would pencil the words in, just to assure they could be erased later if their discovery warranted trouble. Often, I would leave behind a word, or a sentence, when my family would leave one home for another on our chaotic, nomadic journeys across the United States. Still, I was never able to do so in the full quantity I desired.

When I moved into the trailer next to my grandparents' house in the mountains, I coated the hideous flowered wallpaper of my bedroom with white paint, plastered the walls with my roadmaps and postcards, and proceeded to fill the blank margins with whatever words filled my head. These words were often the kernels of later-developed stories and poems; they were often haphazardly sketched during the intermission between dreams.

I've collected those words here -- forty-eight captions linked together in hypertext format. I invite you to follow these threads to wherever they lead. Long, and far.

-- D. Koren, 2005