Wednesday, February 18, 2009


I wish I could spend my days in eternal a country house tucked into the woods, with early morning walks alone with my musings before the summer's heat fills the day. And when it gets hot, I could retreat to the shade with piles of books about the Mitford sisters and Bloomsbury. And in the evenings, without the temptation of TV reruns, I could stay up late doing projects or sitting in a cool bath, navel-gazing. I would ride the horse in the next field over and buy my food at the market. I would pick the raspberries that grow on the garden gate and snip rosemary with scissors. I would lay on white sheets, bleached by the sun and dream the dreams of a person with no regrets, or fears, or hopes--besides waking up with another day of the same as the day before.

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