This is not about one of those picturesque, cookie-cutter landscapes that promotes placid breathing. Nor is it about the tender vibrations that exude from one engulfed by butterflies when enveloped in the greenhouse of their lover’s arms. This is about a state of mind, unique and bewitching. Whether or not this mental state houses the capacity to unlock another’s ability to be content is quite subjective to one’s perception; personal preference of what is illecebrous. However, this exotic rarity is the priceless establishment familiar to me as the bay at which I frequently dock.
This is the location where I soar within sound waves. Here, I float, suspend and drop while riding this wild rollercoaster heavily acquainted with beats and harmonies. Here I taste mileage, every footprint; I even relish in the dessert of travel. Indulge myself in the sweets of adventure, splendor of journey and Splenda of enthralling endeavor. I communicate with colors. Hearing the concerns and penances of the hues. While tentatively lending my ears to the joyous solutions and elixirs of choice for the grievances of tints. I’m either deafened by each shade’s blaring sparkle or caressed into slumber by their angelically faint twinkle.
Whether it be the clanking of chartreuse, banging of denim, tap of canary, hum of apricot or the melodic friction that scribbles burgundy’s signature drumming. This is the home to walking atop truffles. Ice skates glide across jelly, and rain boots trek through marshmallow forests. This is the bottling station for the aroma of intimacy, odor of nervousness, exclusive scent of serenity and fragrance of excitement.
Where expression births multidimensional, multitudes; yugen. Here one can only cry in clouds, though my passion habitually regards laughing in notes; clef, treble and most times bass. This is my happy place. My go-to spot, where I can sit with my plate of dandelions and iridescent stones. My favorite little hole in the wall where I’m free; eating light, drinking frequencies and reading stars.
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