Packing up to head back to New York City this morning from Northern Massachusetts, where I’ve been perched for the last while–researching, reading, witching, listening. I love my chosen home, I really do, but today I feel so sad about hurtling back into the hustle-bustle of cement, of chatter, of Primary, of what Lou Reed once described as “Oh, oh, my, and who really cares.” April weather is blowing up everywhere, and I’m hoping that upon my arrival I’ll gladly step back into that parade, even slather on some lipstick again. But in the early hours of today, I just feel blue about surrendering the voluptuous quiet, the unadulterated green and yellow of spring outside a city. Someday, I hope, I’ll be such an evolved being that I can carry that within me wherever I go. Today I just wish for one more day to drink my coffee in the sun of an empty field.
Packing up to head back to New York City this morning from Northern Massachusetts, where I’ve been perched for the last while–researching, reading, witching, listening. I love my chosen home, I really do, but today I feel so sad about hurtling back into the hustle-bustle of cement, of chatter, of Primary, of what Lou Reed once described as “Oh, oh, my, and who really cares.” April weather is blowing up everywhere, and I’m hoping that upon my arrival I’ll gladly step back into that parade, even slather on some lipstick again. But in the early hours of today, I just feel blue about surrendering the voluptuous quiet, the unadulterated green and yellow of spring outside a city. Someday, I hope, I’ll be such an evolved being that I can carry that within me wherever I go. Today I just wish for one more day to drink my coffee in the sun of an empty field.