I want more than anything else right now to be dancing on a rooftop overlooking the ocean in a country I’ve never been to. Somewhere warm, so that I can wear a thin summer dress.
I want to be in front of a window, framed by bright sunshine, knowing that someone has seen me and is thinking I am the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen.
I want to be with my feet in white sand, hands up graceful, twirling along the water barefoot.
I want to be out there. Alive.
I want poetry readings and someone playing Mohler for me on the cello. I want chocolate on my tongue in Spain. I want to be able to climb the fence at StoneHenge and wander blissfully under the stars. I want to strip myself on that bloody altar and scream. I want to see the jungle from the window of my temporary room, with its four poster bed hung with dripping red and a mini iron balcony. I wants to pose nude for a painter, cubist, in paris. Then again, for an impressionist, holding grapes. Which I will then, one by one eat, while walking away in a black classic dress. Later, I want to be swimming in a river where soldiers died for politicians sins and be washed clean. I want to be…
I want….
….need…
Sorry. This is futility. Excuse me.