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Philosophy Prose

The Coldness Of Dropping Into A Relaxed State

It removes me. Drives the world away for a while, and puts me into my own world. I learned it is better to envision than to replicate. Better to imagine and create from that.

It’s death and life. It’s between. To express a vision. To change an image. My version.

Categories
Prose

My Favorite Season Is Falling In Love

I fell and tripped and caught myself, and caught myself staring, and stared back at the past, and stared at you until you looked back, wondering why I looked so intently. Intensely, as if a car crash had become a field of flowers that I couldn’t see enough of.

You danced on the edge of my reality as the vaguely sweet smell of the season of you filled the air. I ordered you, sipped your delicious flavors, savored your scintillating aromas, drank you in, and felt your warmth. My name was on your cup, along with exactly what I wanted.

Could I have chosen more wisely? I didn’t trust myself. I hadn’t become good at the other person, only myself. I relied on you to be good at us until I could practice. You showed me a thing or two. You taught me a few tricks and tips. I shared with you everything I knew, but you were all I knew when you were around.

My watch stopped. I stopped watching for the next one and the next one. This is where I wanted to be. You were where I wanted to be. You were the scenery and the journey and the cabin on the lake. You were the fireplace and the snowflakes on my tongue. You were home.

When I was a child, I’d fall asleep here, and wake up there. It was always my favorite trick, until you came along and made my walls disappear.