To the introvert, the mirror is the window. I stand before it this morning, looking out on my landscape.
Feathery auburn firmament. Two small oceans of pale blue, surrounded by white sand. One gigantic shell on the right side of each ocean. Two tunnels leading into blackness. A canyon of supple crimson, protected by faint yellow boulders. The terrain is inflamed and pockmarked.
Sorry, but I’m the only local, so I do all of the complaining and all of the listening.
Most mornings, I call in the planes, which dust the landscape with a beige powder that forgives most of the topographical flaws. But this morning I am tired. I don’t care what the tourists think anymore. No, that’s not it. I remember who made it.
Yes, and He likes your topographical flaws. The tourists don’t matter.
I heard the cats discussing this morning how much they admire you for seeing the beauty in the natural landscape. Especially Faith, who we all know has issues of her own…. ❤
That was what I needed to read to nudge me past a simmering ambivalence about my world. I had a sense I could count on your words for that. Thank you.
Why is it I always go to comment and realize that I have nothing to say that hasn’t been said?