(no subject)
I used to think Virginia was just a land of battlefields, and not a land of idylls. But after driving there on absolute whim, passing rivers named after Indian tribes and passing places where wars were fought, we stayed in a home far removed from everything that is my life right now, where there are quilts on antique beds and pioneer-like kettles on the stove and a finger of a hand of a bay that reflects the stars at night. We lay on the dock at three a.m. with our feet dangling over the edge being very quiet, listening to the water, and being engulfed by the big, black bowl of sky that kept getting bigger and bigger the more we looked, deeper and deeper the more we realized how far away it was and how far into the past we were really looking. millions and millions of years, reflected in the water. We twirled on the grass, making the universe spin in our delirium, and we discussed fears and friends and story-telling abilities as we sat around like we've known each other since the beginning of time, bumming around in greasy hair and mismatched sweat-clothes, loading up on non-stop carbs without judgement, thinking that this never would have occurred in this way were it not for arbitrary decisions made almost two years ago, were it not for newspapers and awkward situations. We went bike-riding through forests and corn fields and abandoned churches on a deserted road whose trees looked ominous and foreboding, barren, in the very dark dark, and fog crept out of the cemetery on the corner like ghosts. we saw deer in the yard and horses.
I want to live in a place like that, I think, dock and fog and water and stars and all.
I want to live in a place like that, I think, dock and fog and water and stars and all.