I find myself longing for places I've never been. Not because I crave adventure, but because I feel like home is somewhere else...someplace with high ceilings, tall windows, afternoon sunlight and lazy fans. There should be warmth and a bright glow like overexposed film. Hugely empty rooms.
In the mornings, thick grass and cool moss under a sky so full of fog that it sinks down to brush the tops of my bare feet.
What I have instead is my own, ever smaller, home. My mother teases me that I should stack my furniture because there is far more room vertically than there is on the floor. I have no direct sunlight.
Winter always makes me feel this way.
Tuesday, December 23, 2003
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