The city? Yes.
I am afraid of the city to be honest, on my own. But how I love to explore it (if I am not alone), learn about it, and imagine living in it. (See, just a spoonful of poetry is all it takes, and I grow better.)
...It is a building beside a park, third window up, a dalmatian who wears a red collar to walk and sit beside with a book on a bench. A small balcony, a box with basil and echinacea, photographs pinned to the wall. Shelves with dishes and cups that stack precariously high because there is no room for them in the cupboard, pink soap and a sink to set it near. Creaks in the floor, honey yellow walls, a telephone, a rug and thick blanket. Jazz and old voices, newspapers, coffee stains and the little girl on the floor above who likes the Dalmatian. Art on the streets, music across the way, cars and bicycles and a laundromat. Opera in the winter, ice cream cones in the summer. Protests and celebrations, history and movement and the throbbing heart of the rest of country around it...
No commentary on why I don't think I actually want to live in the city. I'll just keep furnishing my apartment and walk a few blocks for bread and tomatoes and baking powder.
1 comment:
Jordan!
If only you could have been with me as I wrote my scenarios for the excitement and meaning to be found from being within my design. :) As my teachers would have said "Money"! :)
Well, you will just have to finish furnishing the vivid feel and meaning found in this apartment of yours and I will try my best to come up with such a design. :)
David
p.s. I had no idea you had a blog, though now that I think about it, how could I possibly have thought you did not.
You write beautifully and truthfully revealing your godly heart. I especially appreciated and agreed with your "Heavy Rain" post! And of course your racing droplets on the window; vivid memories with katie on that one. Oh where did the years go? Oh yes, I remember…….
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