Last night I revisited Italy.
I first noticed I was there when the balmy coastal breeze picked up my long thing skirt, writing messages for me in the air with the white fabric. I looked over my shoulder and saw my father. He was speaking to a man about his age, and he gestured every so often to me and then back toward the vineyard.
I looked back into the breeze and breathed in air so pure I could drink the drops of moisture from it. Someone tapped my shoulder, my Dad told me I could stay for a while. I didn't smile. My memories of my favorite parts of the house were stricken, I could no longer even remember the road to the processing shed. My mind was blank.
He bent down and picked up his suitcase. I opened my mouth, but before a word could be uttered my father had disappeared. He left me on a site I knew so well, which somehow seemed so foreign to me. I turned to the man in search of answers.... I was speaking Italian.
He said my father had sold him the vineyard, and I woke up.
I first noticed I was there when the balmy coastal breeze picked up my long thing skirt, writing messages for me in the air with the white fabric. I looked over my shoulder and saw my father. He was speaking to a man about his age, and he gestured every so often to me and then back toward the vineyard.
I looked back into the breeze and breathed in air so pure I could drink the drops of moisture from it. Someone tapped my shoulder, my Dad told me I could stay for a while. I didn't smile. My memories of my favorite parts of the house were stricken, I could no longer even remember the road to the processing shed. My mind was blank.
He bent down and picked up his suitcase. I opened my mouth, but before a word could be uttered my father had disappeared. He left me on a site I knew so well, which somehow seemed so foreign to me. I turned to the man in search of answers.... I was speaking Italian.
He said my father had sold him the vineyard, and I woke up.
i have never lived in the city, although my heart has never known any other place to be home. as cheesy as it sounds, it's amazingly true.
it's nice to know that you write too, i love writing.
and it's been said that i have talent.
i'll create art for you.
"...oh look at me... I'm leigh...you should do crazy things at my request..."
She thinks shes all slick just because she is super neato and her hair smells good... but alass, I guess it works because I'm sitting at her desk right now as she insists that I write a responce of adiquate length. (help... she has me at ax point)
I'm not even going to spell check this masterpiece of a blog...