Words. No words. Words
It was a heavy-hearted day. Darting in and out here and there every minute every second every breath, the destroyed and downtrodden lives of so many so close at hand kept peace and comfort at bay, and by the end of the day I was buckling under the pressure of the sky.
But three words saved me.
SMELLS LIKE ART.
And this funny feeling rises behind my sternum, this tingling jubilant sensation, running all through me, scaring away so much tension and so much frustration and so much doubt, because I know it, I know it so well, that smell, that feeling in the air, and what invariably follows. It has saved me before, it saves me time and time again.
Onward.
maya
But three words saved me.
SMELLS LIKE ART.
And this funny feeling rises behind my sternum, this tingling jubilant sensation, running all through me, scaring away so much tension and so much frustration and so much doubt, because I know it, I know it so well, that smell, that feeling in the air, and what invariably follows. It has saved me before, it saves me time and time again.
Onward.
maya