The scent of the air after it rains gives me the most poignant feelings. I have never experienced the like in all my years. It takes me to another time. Another place. I’m waiting for you under the eaves of tall dark-green trees. There are lone cottage houses standing in thick white mists. You approach and we stand just outside the wood where the grass rolls for miles. The absolute quiet is bliss and a gentle breeze slides against our ears, teasing our clothes and glancing off our ankles. We’re going for a walk.
Continue reading “Walk With Me.”
I don’t know why I do it every time. The sound of the main gate opening leads me to rush through the morning rituals that are the cause of my tardiness. But I can’t imagine not doing them if I can. Unless the resources aren’t there. Maybe then.
The gates close and my head is angled to the right as I watch the inside compound disappear. The thickly grown shrub fence glides by and you can see lights through the windows at the back of the house. The cold dawn breeze feels crisp and divine on my face. I close my eyes, wanting to absorb it. I always thought it felt the purest, like cold water down a dry gullet. I drop the window down lower to let in more. The bumps are something I got used to, after some time. The grass looks greener than it has for a while. It has been raining. So it’s grown a good couple of inches, and the dew can be seen reflecting off the light, forming teeny tiny rainbows in the air above them. There will be thick black mud everywhere. No one will be able to walk with shoes on for two days, at least. The path is flooded. Flowing heavily downhill, out to the main road. Continue reading “RUSH HOUR”