headed home

I'm sittin' in the railway station
Got a ticket for my destination

I humbled some last words, gave a confused kiss and without touching the ground got on the train. Opened a book and again read the dedication handwritten in black ink. Was it a dream or an illusion?
The darkness fell early and moon, cut precisely in half, had me on his watch all along the trip. It was the half piece of the full moon, which shone in the bedroom left behind.



And finally I'm Home.

Home, where my thought's escaping
Home, where my music's playing

Felt so excited to tell my friends the farm story. Crazy and beautiful story. And finally when the moment came I did not know where to start. And I still don't know. Chaotic fragments that cross my mind.
Cirque, steam machines, tractors, sheeps, teepee, tree house, swing rope, floating boat, reflecting waters, blue windows, blue doors, red roofs, red grounds, rain rain rain, sand, mud, clay, bricks, dust, millions of stars, bonfire, games, jokes, philosophies, gymnastics, unanswered questions, the smell of wet and burning wood, candle light, the ocean, heart beat, little hugs, big talks, laugh, laugh to tears, tears.
And so it goes.
But well.
Time shall put things in their places. It always does.

Trying to recuperate, not to over think, to grasp the present moments in any shape they come: it can be big as love or nature's beauty, or just as simple as they are : nice conversations, good home cooked food, new semester, thousands of pages to read and hundreds to write.
Even deadlines hanging over the head can be a thing to enjoy when not missed.

Had a photo shoot with the folk rock band in this foggy place. Still afraid to look at the results, the fog came every time we went out. My fingers froze though inside I was full of warmth.  



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