My name is Andrew...

[wizardofxenia]

...Andrew Deerhoof. I came to Twin Peaks just after the Laura Palmer murder...literally. I'm a mystery writer with a close contact in the FBI. He told me about the murder and I immediately set off for Twin Peaks. As soon as I arrived I fell in love with the place. The beautiful woods, the mountains, the scent of pine-needles, the cool, quiet nights, the people, and the whispers in the wind through the pines. I followed various people around and observed different events and meetings from a safe distance. I took dozens of photographs, of the town, of the woods, of the rail-tracks shrouded in mist. I'm writing a book about Twin Peaks, which I hope to finish soon. Not long after the Laura Palmer's death it seemed Twin Peaks' petals changed colour and grew. Perversely, her death had some good aspects to it...Laura Palmer, having been a victim of drug abuse and other felonies, shed light upon the criminal underworld of Twin Peaks and alerted the authorities to it's presence. Twin Peaks is isolated from the rest of the world. Those who are prone to hiding come here, myself included. I had a nightmare once that all the trees surrounding Twin Peaks were cut down and replaced with mass housing estates, ghastly factories and a theme park. I hope that never ever comes true. At least I would do everything in my power to stop that from happening. Sometimes I explore the woods at night. It's a wonderful if unsettling experience. Once I sat upon a rock high in the woods late at night. They were shrouded in low mist. In the distance, where the tips of some pines stood tall above the mist, I heard the lonely, eerie hoot of an owl. It seemed to create a tune that entranced me, sending me into a strange dream I can't recall. I woke up on the rock feeling like the first person alive. On the front of my book I decided long ago to put a photo of Laura Palmer. Laura Palmer is the face of Twin Peaks, beautiful and sweet on the outside, sad, lonely and perverse on the inside. Her tragic case continues to obssess me. With the effect she's had on the town in the past month, it's almost as if she's still alive somewhere, maybe atop the mountain, casting a shadow over the town and calling faintly. But my mind is wandering...

I'm at my favourite place to hang out, the Roadhouse. A wonderful place with wonderful people and music. I'm alone at the bar, drinking a bottle of Bud and smoking a Marlboro...