5 days ago
I love the sight and smell of sunflowers and blueberries dancing in the wind. Of how they kissed my cheeks as the sight of foggy morning dew and birds chirping unfolds, as if greeting me, to have a good day. Perched on my left hand, a newly brewed coffee, smoking still for all of its glory. While on the right, the freshly printed morning newspaper, to keep me up to date. While in the porch with all the jams, fruits and bread. Marveling in this magnificent view, that this fast-paced life seems no one at all appreciates.
Waking extra early in the morning does not burden me at all. They’re making fun of this notion of not taking any motorized ride and rather choosing my own “two’s” for transport, but them foolish don’t know. Because I’d rather walk for quite a mile, to gawk, and awe on this beautiful vastness of the sea opposing the nearby forest: I prefer to walk in the middle of them for their scent sends me to somewhere ethereal, a palpable decadence that no senses can easily taste. Of how the briny pungency of seaweeds and wet sand marries the dead bark and newborn sprouts. Of how as I walk, the bull shark and Orca swims side to side, while the leopard seal hunts the multicolored school of fish that flies underneath. And as the deer and owl of the forest’s having their pre-dawn chitchat, and the wolf mulching to things I don’t wanna know, while the tiger to his tigress make love. As the pebbles beneath my toes giggle to things I don’t know.
As I reached the workplace, pressed the elevator door to level 9, and with all the nods to comrades and cohorts, I began my morning; facing again these bulk of paper works over prints be it in hard or soft copies, different stories I may say, While on the view of the sky by my window. Letting the barely not so fresh air to enter. My forest turned to buildings, and my sea turns to an overwhelming crowd. My marveling, now points to papers of multihued issues and questions that needs an intelligent answer, and I started the resolve. Clock ticks by until it reached the afternoon. And the the bulks of paper turns to piles, piles turns to inches, and inches turns to almost none. And my work for today is done. Pressed down the elevator door to the lobby, all nods to comrades and cohorts gone, I approached the turnstiles. With the sky early this morning a color of milky blue and corncob yellow, now a jaw-drop pink, orange and purple-violet-magenta combined. With all the twinkling concoctions. Be it on top of me which is the stars, or by the busy streets of all the skyscrapers, cars and cherry gleams of humanity. This is another marvel to see. And I prefer to walk again, ‘til my feet and toes hurt, and my soul satiated.