I love the distinct smell of every season. Sometimes I step out onto the patio just to smell the morning. Today the crisp smell of spring is in the air: melting snow, wet pavement, old soggy vegetation and a hint of the new growth beneath it. The morning air is still cold, for now. As the days get longer these smells will give way to that of morning dew and hot grass baking in the summer sun.
For now these smells fill me with excitement. Spring holds potential, and like the early morning of a new day, I am alive with thoughts of what the future may bring.
What does spring mean to you?
As my coffee cools
it leaves behind a set of rings
that record each time I took a sip
and how big a sip it was.
Between each ring
the white space in the cup
remembers my gaze
through the frosty window.
fall down—and up
but some, just float
because they cannot
which way to go.
The unfurling dimensions and colours of bismuth reflect the inner workings of my mind. You could look at it a thousand times and see a different stone every time. Whichever way you look at it there are certain layers or colours hidden; some are exposed while others are unseen. This chameleon of gemstones, how can one ever know what it is truly thinking?
WPC: State of Mind
One of the best books I have ever read. It may have just become my favourite, more than that, it made me realize that I never had a favourite before. Now, if somebody asked me what my favourite book is I wouldn’t have to think about it; it would flow out of me instantly: “The Bell Jar“.
I guess I should have been excited the way most of the other girls were, but I couldn’t get myself to react. I felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.
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