Saturday, March 1
Wind and Kites
The following is a product of a Little Blue Book entry. It is an attempt at creative writing. Not something I do often so please read and enjoy
So here I am again. Time to myself with nothing to do but write. And yet again this freedom of mind leaves the written page blank. Which is such a shame.
I thought that this would be the perfect scenario for writing...
Sitting high up on a balcony. Over looking the sea.
Through the tree tops I can watch the foaming white waves gently crashing about. They never even make it to the shoreline.
I am not contactable and there is no one here to disturb me. The phone is on silent so I won't even hear it ring.
I pause for a moment, taking it all in. Hopefully deep breathes of air and the wind on my face, will bring inspiration...
In the distance I can see a kite surfers kite. There is just enough wind to raise it and hold it in place, but not enough to make it move out of position. The strings holding it in place can not be seen. Neither can the person holding the strings for that matter. It looks like it is just suspended in air. Held by the magic of wind.
This place, this balcony that I am looking out from. I have been here before. It is familiar yet unknown. I know that I have been here before. I remember coming. I don't remember exactly when it was. Some time in the distant past. Ten years or so I imagine, maybe less. I guess it doesn't really matter now.
In fact it is questionable what really matters at the best of times. Life can be such a fickle experience.
Of course love matters. Love always matters. For without love, what is left?
Love is the glue of life, it holds us together. And tears us apart.
There are two kites now. The new one is red. The wind has picked up now as well. It keeps blowing them out of site, behind all of the trees.
I wish I could be blown away. Not that I am unhappy here. I just think it would be a nice feeling. To be picked up and blown around like a fallen leaf. Lifted and carried from one place to the next. Stopping every now and then for the wind to catch her breath.
Even the wind runs out of air sometimes.