In the backroads of my mind, where gravel meets the fallen leaves in a gentle touch, you are lost somewhere in between the windy sky and the earth, moist from the rainy yesterday. You are holding my hand in a sweet attempt to keep it warm. Who are you?
I know this is silly, a digitalized feeling of a sort, a quick note in my phone, one of many saved during countless traffic jams of Nairobi. I haven’t blogged for a while, and felt a strong urge to write something, anything. The job keeps me busy, too busy in fact to walk around the yard barefoot, or talk to the lonely dogs in our compound, or ever sip from that air of creativity that surrounds you once you let your mind loose for a minute, once you let go of the burdens of the day. I want to absorb Sunday mornings again. I promise to myself I will try doing nothing... this Sunday morning.
Image credit: GREYFading