Unexpected treasures
Not much feels by choice.
I go for walks during lunch breaks.
I recently started in a full-time role, mostly out of necessity (OK, entirely out of necessity). It's words and visuals, which is fine. A big gulp of InDesign to keep me down to earth, rooted in measurements and grids. Which is also fine.
Did I mention it's fully in-office? This is the part that felt like tucking away a version of myself that only existed in long pauses. But surprisingly, this is fine too. Or we're still in the honeymoon phase.
As I was saying, I go for walks during lunch breaks.
(it's not a new habit, I used to do that before, too).
Now, I go around my new neighbourhood, exploring the streets (I've lived in this city for over 20 years, but this area is unfamiliar to me) and the King's University College campus, which is beautiful, vast, green and next door. I've carried this on almost daily for the past 4 months.
Today, I felt a pull and headed toward the trees bordering the campus's right side. The same trees I see from my office window, if I stand up from my desk, get really close to the window and look far to the right.
I discovered a little dirt path, beaten.
I followed it blindly.
It took me to the river. Wide. Gorgeous. Little rapids breaking the perfect water mirror here and there. A red rusty bridge connecting the crowns of the trees in the distance. Symmetrical green. Complementary perfect.
The same white clouds stretching across the sky as in the water.
A treat on a humid mid-July day, featuring a weather advisory and a heat warning in red on the weather app.
Pockets of phytochemicals, embracing warmly. Overwhelmingly reviving. Loudly whispered fragrance.
Chorus of insects surrounding. So soothing.
A thin snake crossing the trail in a hurry. Vanishing into the green velvety shadows between some lazy leaves. I felt the urge to follow him, secretly wishing for my own Alice in Wonderland adventure. Anda in Natureland. Or Plantland. Or Urban Forestland. Something along these lines. Hoping for teas and mushrooms and not a care in the world, except for how NOT to go back.
Lately,
my pull is toward flowers
my art is geometric
my words stop halfway
my poetry chokes me
time bends and folds oddly
crying is my pastime
sleep is by necessity.
Not much feels by choice.
