Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Paradise rooms part 1

My idea of paradise:

a dim room on a rainy afternoon--the windows are open, a warm rain is falling on hazy greenery outside, and the rain makes shadows on the walls. I'm in someone else's bed, alone, because they're out, but they're coming back, and there is the rain--sound and smell of it, and the deep green light, and the slow shadows, and a sense of expectancy --because I'm waiting for their return--and of peace, because I know they will come back. I'm awake but dreaming. The walls are white. The windows are large and deep, and it is someone else's room, all quiet, and empty, except for me. Maybe I drowse a little. Maybe I just watch the rain, light, warm rain that pulses and swells and then drops back to mist, beating on the leaves. The smell of wet vegetation and of grass, and rain-on-dust. It is afternoon. It has rained all day. And I am waiting without impatience in a bed that is not my own, a bed I belong to, but that doesn't belong to me.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Nate Hawthorne said...

You forgot the musty smell and metallic taste.

9:19 PM  

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