i moved where my heart had drifted off to long before. i live on a hill of hundred acres, where my dreams have merged with the view. it is quiet from machine noises yet loud with sounds of horses, dogs, cats chickens and ducks. nature is the true artist in resident and i am just her apprentice who often gets lost in her gaze. once and a while i travel back to cities and foreign places to put into photographs what i have learned, yet always, part of my heart is left on the hill..
i feel so alive when snow covers the ground and flakes fall and get caught in my hat i can easily lay on the ground and play out childhood memories. I can wear my black cashmere coat and tall boots and fancy gloves and dream of paris, but for today i will put my wool sweater and play fetch with sophie and grace.
i can feel the temperature change. the warm air that blew around here just yesterday is gone. even with the sun piercing through my bones i already feel the cold. i have had all sort of thoughts sometimes it is as if they are not me, mine, but a person i lhave trouble understanding. todays thoughts were hard, i though about how i wish i could paint how even though i sing to myself, i could never really sing to anyone else, i thought about how i know how to make love but not a baby i though about such things. i feel cold, i have felt cold all winter long. i have felt the coldness of the man that owns the farm, coldness from racist politicians and realtors. the sun watches me as i write this for it makes the keys glow, can you come in i ask it, can you come closer.
behind me i hear the sound of the faucet drip, drip , drip i tried to fix it but it still drips. on the table is a bowl tangerines, maybe there is twenty or just twelve. through the window the grass is now visible and green makes you believe change is coming. the sun comes out from behind grey sheets and tiny snow flakes that will probably never reach the ground dance. i am sitting wanting to know more as i reach for the dial of the radio.
i sit at my chair by the window but i am far, far away. the music that played transported me to a place and time that is not here and not now. every once a while i come back and stare out the window as large snowflakes fall from the sky and reach the bottom. was that their destination all along i wonder, is that where the snow flake really wants to go. just like that i am not in my kitchen but on the other side. the only thing i can feel is my lips they are cracked as i float in the land of memories. up above my body against the grey clouds looking down i see that the snow is dancing, it hears it too, the melody and the tone of the voice that sings me home.
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