Arrow Lake and so does baton rouge

a light mist of the morning turns into soft snow flurries as it wanes into afternoon, the sun following it's familiar curve in the sky. it's a heavy dusting that crunches under foot as badlands walks, following the serpentine twist of the lake.

unsure what path he is on, where it led or even where he was going, left badlands with a quiet frustration that refused to leave him.

did he know these lands? or were these new? of course, either way they were new to him now —

the more he tries to push past the blank abyss of his mind the more tired he becomes. he keeps trying until he realizes there is nothing to grasp at; and grumpy and irritable, he lets out a low huff of annoyance as he plops onto his haunches, staring at his uneven reflection as the lake water moves.

with a heavy sigh, he bends down to take a drink of the cold lake water; telling himself he would rest here for a few hours before continuing on.