the sun is shining

give me two minutes?

that’s all, i ask. two minutes to tell you everything i can!

it’s nothing like i could have imagined. it’s better, times a trillion.

there’s something to be said, for exploring with your best friend – in a city you’ve never known, but one that feels like home.

i can’t explain just what i think, but i hope you understand. it’s london and the sun is shining and it feels so much like home.

i don’t know what it was. but that perfect sunset pulled me in. left me breathless. called me.

it seems to grow more beautiful, every time.

the colours cleared my mind. my thoughts dissipated with a trickle. gone, gone, gone.

a sunset like this, forever.

those words

i’m lying in the sun.

lying in the sun and hearing the faint melody of jack johnson. a few doors down, i’d say.

summer is on it’s way.

i haven’t been honest with myself. not lately.

the fountain streams behind me.

it’s like an out of body experience. i don’t know who i am today. the sun warms my skin. i feel that. it’s a perfect moment of fleetingness, and i know that, just like this time i’ve had so far. waiting for summer. making plans. then, changing my mind.

i didn’t know it like i thought i did. and as days passed by, i could see that more and more. until this moment. the sky is just as clear.

it’s just me and my thoughts now, i’m not surprised it took this long.

the flowers fell asleep at dusk…

…pointing towards the sun, drinking every last ray of light as they closed their petals to dream.

the moon hid behind the clouds tonight, the glowing arc peaking through. i wish i could have taken a photo that did it any sort of justice.

sneak inside my thoughts and you’ll see my memory’s happy.

nostalgia.

my chest just tightened when i thought about it.

my breath is leaving me anxious. i’m flooded with vivid memories of maui. that feeling i thought i’d filed subconsciously away just reemerged with a vengeance. i felt the air. the smell of the little hut i lived in…marijuana mixed with insect repellent and lavender.

the humidity and the burning sun and the sand stuck with sunscreen on my skin. the blandness of the water running over my mouth when i stood in that outdoor shower and washed the salt from my face. the sound of the creak in the gate, and the bang as it swung shut.

the heat of the nights.

the sprinklers on shopfronts that cooled me as i rode my bike down front street. the asphalt of the road on my toes as i stopped at stop signs. and dragging my thongs as i took off again. palm trees passing shadows over my body. the air-conditioning of grandma’s place. the big terracotta tiles under my feet in the kitchen, the darkness of the shower with the broken lights and heavy curtain. 

the shade of the banyan tree.

the coolness trapped between the mountains near the waterfalls near the winding roads. the dampness of the ground and the smell of wet dirt under bamboo plants so tall.

the feeling of my legs indented with marks from the swinging cane chair that hung from a palm tree, under the hut, next to the pool, at the place i called my home.

it hurts my chest to think about it.