If I go outside, walk by the roadside, I fall back in love with the experience of living. I can almost put out of my mind the horrific cruelties inflicted by humans. I wonder if the kind of world I want to live in will ever be possible, but I visit such places in my dreams—like memories. They’re beautiful and I always have the feeling of returning to something elusively familiar. I vividly remember these dreams. I remember an open stone square with beautiful buildings, like the Louvre, on two sides. Behind the buildings was an ocean and a broad stone terrace with tables and chairs. They were full of people looking over the ocean, sipping drinks, enjoying the beautiful sunlight. As I walked diagonally through the stone square a flock of paper, origami birds dipped and cartwheeled around me before flying over the ridge of the nearest rooftop. All of it was familiar—the impossibly living birds, the balloons, the tables and their colorful umbrellas.
····from dreams—snow trails the falling
64: January 9th 2016 | bottlecap