New writings. Yay!
Humid heat makes sweat drip. Thoughts swing back to the cool crisp tornado warned plains. Excuse me. Mountains. I forgot that flat doesn’t always mean plains. I wonder if, when I think about a place with as much heart and joy as I possibly can if my soul flies over the miles and back to bring the images I see in my mind. Blue skies and wind swept clouds. Lightly white-capped lakes. Grass and plains before you hit city limits that dissolve in to trash piled streets. Characters of all kinds wandering the streets. Everyone has their own story and their own history. I wonder how many times these histories cross each other. I want to be able to see how people change color throughout the day. I want to see the tendrils of the aura that follows everyone. Or would that just make giant brown streak in every city? Each person leaves a trail following them. What color do people leave behind at work? In their beds next to their spouses or lovers? In the park? Walking the dog? What color would you be right now?
Nudges
Glances
Smiles
Beats bump
Smoke curls
The conversation drifts to what they do, how they live, the very essence of their beings
Twilight when they entered. Night when they leave.
They change goes unnoticed.
Hand in hand they walk down the stree.
Everything is perfect.