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 sit nearer and nearer to the fire both feeding the flames with wood and edging myself closer.
i am cold, bones feel aches and air seems to have pierced through my skin. the rain is falling and hard, fog comes up the hill and back again. a quiet voice from the radio sings words that have me stop what i am doing, what am i doing.
the stack of books some open and others gathering dust, cats claim their hot spots as dogs growl at the air.
half a cup of tumeric & ginger concotion makes the inside of my cup look like art but it is the cup with ice and espresso that is making it to my lips.
there no heat from the sun but there is still warmth around me and even though cold travels and mingles with my flesh and bones, i have still manage to feel a flame of desire..
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