. . .saw clouds of such epic proportions that I wanted to do something to change the course of history, like lead an army of idealists into battle with this world or something. But what could I really do?
I want my life to be written in poetry, not just prose. Or at least for the poetic parts to be so vastly lovely that it makes up for the mundane in between.
We drove beside a bird for like 45 seconds. It was at eye level with me and moving along side at the same speed. It gave me the feeling of flying almost. I wish I could fly. I wish I could be where ever I wanted to be.
No comments:
Post a Comment