It was an idea, a fanciful dream. I packed nothing and left everything.
The plantations were green, not brown. A prevailing wind filtered out the sounds of humanity’s pickers but the life I had wished for never existed.
I returned home deflated. My mum smiled and offered me a coffee.
We’re meeting in landscapes
Joined at the soul
Waiting nightly for sleep
To roam beautiful dreams
Francesca breezed amongst the flowers like a butterfly on the wing, light and carefree. Dressed for the summer even though it was cool, her silk blouse tousled in synchronicity to her long, blonde hair, her smile radiant. I could’ve watched her all day. Looking longingly from my window, I did.
And though the world be silhouette, the definition of thy lines holds more power than any vibrant memory. In each stroke I remember, each molecule of ink I feel. This is no random symmetry, no desperate thought reformed, but all I was and am and wish. Brush strokes on a canvas to you and she and them, but not to me. In silhouette, I remain here: Japan.
Author’s Note: I drew this picture and wrote these words after watching a BBC series on the art of Japan. I wasn’t going to post it, but hope you like it. This piece means more to me than most as it’s a place I dream of someday visiting.
“When choosing a car, one chooses another’s created dream.”
“When choosing a book, one creates one’s own dreams.”
Disassembling A Dream
’There’s bills to pay.’
’I’m not sure you do. You can’t look out of the window all your life dreaming that the glass will clear.’
’Money! The world is coloured green. You’ve got to have money to live, even to breathe. If you don’t get yourself out there, you’ll starve.’
’Is that your answer to everything? Don’t you know anything else? And stop looking out of that glass, I’ve told you.’
’I’m not looking.’
’Then what are you doing?’
’Just recalling a time when there wasn’t any glass at all.’
The Space Between
The space between
Dark blue and black
Differing shades of forever
Where pointing fingers linger
And eyes do blink
The stuff of dreams gathering
Like nocturnal memories
No lights required
Just open minds
Stardust and magic
Little parcels of eternity
Destiny and hope
Children praying for shooting stars
Never has nothing held such value
Here, dwelling in held breaths