Sta.sh
From sub-par suburbs come I.
I come to escape the endless cocoon of noises that encompasses my every waking moment. It is not a joyous chorus of the happiness of life, but rather, it is an ensemble cry for help from a slice of the slums that does not understand the delight of the peace that the world can bring.
And so, from sub-par suburbs come I.
To escape the plague, I must first traverse through it. It is a sorry sight for such tired, sleep-blurred eyes such as mine. I see nothing but a constant grey, a hovering stench of sadness and monotony. Even when sorrow is not the description of the day, it is the heartbeat that only barely beats, the only sound that can be heard above the droning of dull. It is an apathetic lethargy, a lagging drag that I need to escape, before I submit totally to the weary world around me.
The misery thins as I speed my way through the disease.
And then I hit it.
The doorway is non-existent, but I feel different, stepping through the invisible barrier that separates the magnificent from the mundane, the delectable from the dreary, the Heaven from the Hell.
Into this brand-new world I step, the colours suddenly vibrant, the air suddenly clean, the smoke and smog of the inner-city infestation finally cleared. It is a feast for every sense, and my senses feast upon all.
The bright mosaic of the pansies and marigolds that line the paths, and the pure, unhindered blue of a well-washed sky above.
The gentle heat of a warm, gleaming sun, and the soft, loving embrace of the wind, a friend happy to see me.
The fresh, crisp aroma of fields newly hewn in straight, organized lines, and the familiar salty tang of an ocean that one has touched before they have reached it.
The dark, bittersweet juice of the blackberries that line the paths beyond, and the warm, salty crunch of the walnuts that grow in the grove by the lawns.
The throaty arias of the loons that dance upon the lake, and the shrill, piercing songs of the cicadas, singing to announce the coming days of bliss.
The days of agony are behind me now, even if only for a spilt second in the history of time.
There is no pollution here; the air sparkles like a million diamonds have been embedded into the clouds.
I breathe deep, the very sun drenching every inch of my lungs. My new fortress, in warm shades of mahogany and miracles, looms over my ever-healing form.
I am home.
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We both loved it.
I'm glad you both liked it! Thank yew, dearie! Here, have a cookie
And actually, I did win that contest ^.^ It was about the most amazing feeling ever
And yes, you are silly. Like me