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Surrealism
Surrealism
A small, tan coloured book, completely unadorned. The binding is worn and aged, the pages slightly tattered and curling towards the edges. Several small notes peek out here and there from between the sheaves of parchment and pieces of torn blue silk mark places within.
Saturday, 31 July 2010
I feel like I've just had the most satisfying awakening in a long, long time. Like a feline stretching from a midmorning nap, curling its claws into the earth to feel it warm beneath the pads of its feet before righting itself to take stock. And when I took stock, for once it didn't seem like I'd awakened into a worse rendition of whatever I was already dreaming.

It's summer. The earth is rich, the air smells sweet and the weather is warm and welcoming. People are smiling. Genuinely smiling. I have come to the conclusion that most people are solar powered. I didn't feel quite so outside looking in, and so much more inside looking around.

I guess I should probably attribute that to Gareth though. He's like a huge safety blanket and as long as he is there, then....everything is just peachy.
Celestia posted @ 18:38 - Link - comments
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