I sit here, looking out my window.
The coffee shop that I drink chi and eat avocados in every Sunday.
My religion.
I sit at the same table, in the same black chair, In front of the same window every time I come here.
So yes; I can call this ‘my window’.
The red leaves become intertwined with the wind and create a small tornado on the grey pavement. Picking up pieces of trash, and using them.
Raping them.
Then flinging the pieces back down, to lie with the other discarded paper napkins.
Or fliers that read ‘Tonight only!’.
I watch this every Sunday, in the fall, at least.
In the winter, I watch snowflakes drift down and softly caress the people below. Landing in eyelashes and hair, only to melt and become the tears of spring. And then the fog of early summer. Or the smog of late August.
I watch this.
It’s on days like these, in late October, that I relax and find my serenity.
It’s on cold days like these that I actually enjoy touching the warmth of the coffee mug in my hands.
Days like these, when the avocados seem the best, and remind me of summer. Although in summer I’ll be complaining about the heat, and write how the red corduroy of my pants remind me of fall.
Late October.
I like it here.
In the mountains.
Everything is soft.
Nothing is sharp except the brilliant colors of the leaves, caught up in the tornado of the wind.
Silently raping and discarding trash.
And I close my eyes.
Because, even among the raping of paper napkins, one can find peace.
 Hatsume_chan · Thu Sep 13, 2007 @ 01:46am · 1 Comments |
