(no subject)
Feb. 22nd, 2006 06:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shapeofthingsAll of a sudden I find myself dreaming. A strange dream that comes when I'm walking, walking...
All of a sudden this urban life leaves me restless, aimless. The beat of the city no longer stirs me, something else tugs away at the corners and I'm daydreaming. Wants I never knew existed within me are stirring in this head of mine and suddenly time seems to be sliding away, running between my fingers no matter how tightly I ball my fists. I'm finding myself craving space, lusting over the idea of a house, a home of my own with the space for a few trees and the dog. Wide verandas and languid afternoons. Cold winters pull at my sentimentality, with the low afternoon sun slipping thick and golden over the hills. When the storms come their scent will linger in the afternoon air, clean, cold and pure, and the creek will come up and lap at the ancient trees on the banks.
The town won't be small, but big enough for a choice in schools and a good restaurant or two, close enough to the metropolis for occasional weekend voyages to civilization. The kids will have room for adventure, though, building cubbies in the scrub and riding bikes down the street. Such a strange dream; a year ago I would have told you I wasn't sure I'd procreate, but something's ticking, ticking.
The city doen't have the same fit these days, but I'm not sure of what I'm wanting, though it's anything but the strip-mall coast of my childhood. Rural Queensland holds few charms with it's beer-steak-and-chips way, and I've developeda peculiar liking for winter. The call south is louder, louder, it will be followed one day. But there's a different dream as well.
All of a sudden this urban life leaves me restless, aimless. The beat of the city no longer stirs me, something else tugs away at the corners and I'm daydreaming. Wants I never knew existed within me are stirring in this head of mine and suddenly time seems to be sliding away, running between my fingers no matter how tightly I ball my fists. I'm finding myself craving space, lusting over the idea of a house, a home of my own with the space for a few trees and the dog. Wide verandas and languid afternoons. Cold winters pull at my sentimentality, with the low afternoon sun slipping thick and golden over the hills. When the storms come their scent will linger in the afternoon air, clean, cold and pure, and the creek will come up and lap at the ancient trees on the banks.
The town won't be small, but big enough for a choice in schools and a good restaurant or two, close enough to the metropolis for occasional weekend voyages to civilization. The kids will have room for adventure, though, building cubbies in the scrub and riding bikes down the street. Such a strange dream; a year ago I would have told you I wasn't sure I'd procreate, but something's ticking, ticking.
The city doen't have the same fit these days, but I'm not sure of what I'm wanting, though it's anything but the strip-mall coast of my childhood. Rural Queensland holds few charms with it's beer-steak-and-chips way, and I've developeda peculiar liking for winter. The call south is louder, louder, it will be followed one day. But there's a different dream as well.
