Friday, April 22, 2011

So thirsty...

Its the rain season in San Angelo. But there is no water. Only concrete.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Emotional State

 Every place feels different. Every apartment, house, farm, town, city, state, and country--all of them have their own distinctive mood that saturates the land and embodies all life there.

 Maine was a far off fantasy, where reality and dreams intersect. Magic danced in the air with buzzing bees and lightening bugs to the sounds of roaring oceans and rustling trees. Faeries existed in and hide in the forest, but so do the monsters who lie in wait at the night. It was the thrill of a child's imagination.

Austria was a sleeping giant. Ancient of Ancient, turned on itself and hiding its secrets. Quiet, sleeping, rumble.

New Jersey was too frantic. It was the stress of squeaking breaks and smell of a whale's breath.

Greece--ah, Greece. Greece was a dream in the middle of the day with a hot sun beating down. Amidst ruins of life and politics people celebrated and danced and laughed. Despite the ruins of life and politics, people danced. Life despite life. And it was thrilling.

Monterey, California was the little sister of Greece. It played and practice at being nonchalant and carefree. But it is still too young. Life and politics have not died and the minds of the people are still occupied. It hasn't learned yet how to dance.

And now San Angelo, Texas. In the heart of a burning hell. San Angelo is stretched limb from limb upon a cross and hung to die amidst vultures and a torturing sun. It is thirsty for water and crippled. It is a life dying and died... And yet, it is resurrected. It demands life, even if it is a life stretched limb from limb and thirsty. It refuses to give up. And in that struggle, there is beauty.