I have a number of pages, but I do not have a writer. I am often seen in between destinations.

A carnival of colors where the Amazon sings, and football's dance with samba brings. Land kissed by coffee's embrace, where Christ outstretches on a mountain's face.

I HAVE ROADS BUT NO VEHICLES, FORESTS BUT NO TREES, AND CITIES BUT NO BUILDINGS.

I stood before radar, before radio's call, a steadfast guardian through tempest and squall. By flame, by lens, by electric might, I pierced the dark with guiding light. What am I, watching each night?

I’m a giant wave that refuses to behave. I roar to shore, an ocean’s rave. Too wild to surf, too fierce to play, when I come crashing, best run away.