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Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Day 19 to Day 40

 Sometimes we need a push from an inspirational place.

Before you carry on with this post, I want you to take this link, let it load, patience now..

http://soundcloud.com/deadoceans/phosphorescent-song-for-zula

Are you ready..? Ok, go on, you may now press PLAY. 

The fear of having nothing good to say after so long is quite overwhelming.

What if we pretended that I didn't vanish, and what you are reading now was a simple add on to yesterday. Not 21 days ago, but earlier. That today, being day 40 is just another day.

Would you forgive me if I had a great story to tell?

21 Days is a lot of time to get up to all sorts of goodness. Being new to a city full of new things is a terribly, terrifying new experience. The newness of every corner is a new type of hype that I just can't wait to capture, like butterflies in a net.

Picture this:

It's a wintery day, but the sun is shining gloriously. There is a feeling of something different in the air, could it be spring? No surely not. But it's there - it's warm, it's a t-shirt type of day.
You decide that inside is not the place to be, so you get out, out into a field full other people, running a mock in this summery spring phenomenon.

There are dogs yapping and owners shouting. Kids are rolling down the hills and a soft breeze tangles your hair as if whispering past, "You can feel it can't you?"

As you flop to the ground, onto a soft comfort, pressing strawberries to your lips, you let your mind go. Why has it been so trapped?
You let it wonder, into the wonder it finds…

Friends of the past that have welcomed you back, mushy loves that keep you up at night and special discoveries of intellect you forgot you owned. Rewinding the past few weeks as if to relive them all over again, you really have never felt so happy.

Staring at your thoughts dancing above you, you lift your arms to remind yourself that it's all real. Look, you are touching every smile and intertwine every word passed between you, enveloped between your fingers. Suddenly you grab them, feel them absorb into your skin. Quick! Pull them tightly into your chest.

Embracing the past few weeks with responsibility and respect.

Opening your eyes,  can see those kites flying high above you? Watch them flit as your human gently unravels the string, the kites are dancing in the breeze, silly kites.

Could this be your life's metaphor?

Burnt from the rays of a summery spring type of sun, you feel alive again. Alive to write again.

And this song that's playing in your ears. It's given you hope to be again. Right?

Exactly right.


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