Friday, November 11, 2005

Wind and Sea

I love the city, don't get me wrong. This place as much as it drives me mad, like most good things in my life, rewards me for sticking with it. I'm am constantly barraged with ideas for paintings, wonderful, interesting, intelligent people - places that awe and inspire me.

But a piece of me wants to run away to the link up there. I could knit, Sam could build. We'd have a small garden and I'd sit on the rock wall and just watch the sea. The mornings would be brisk and cold, but smell of wind and sea and salt. The evenings warm in front of our fire; we'd sit at a large heavy wooden table. The kind that lacks grace, but is sturdy and steady and gathers old friends.

We'd live simply and quietly. We'd have time to take long rambling walks where we would see no other but birds. The noises that would invade our space would be that of water and wind, not cars and people.

Part of me wants to run away from it all some days. Go somewhere quiet and small. Somewhere where it's just the two of us for a while. With no other worries or cares. Just us, a rock wall, and the sounds of the sea.

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