The town smells of lilacs and moist earth, a diffused, grey light filtering through the clouds overhead. The air is wet, sweet, cloying, tugging at the heart as well as the mind as memories of similar days gone past float in and out of my head. There is a moodiness to the serene springtime surroundings, the innocent twitters and tweets of hidden birds masking that subtly moving flux, the push and pull tide that carries us ever farther from whence we started. Where are we racing?
The scent of a flower is unchanged from the scents that tinge my memory, and yet each lusty inhalation is new to me. I stop awhile to let my infant nose revel.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
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