About laurfish
Yes.
Out there.
When your hand is
stretched out, grabbing the wind, and the sun dances on your newly-freckled arm
and you can barely speak because your hair keeps flying in your face but you
wouldn’t speak anyway because, my god, the mountains here are so beautiful, how
clouds just hang out with them like good friends, talking about themselves,
talking about the weather… and how you look over to your own friend whose head
marks the beats coming from the local radio station and beyond him you see
ocean and ocean and ocean and in front of you a road that ends only when you
say so, only at the next, “stop here! I
have to see this!” and you hop out and look up and out and can only try to take
it all in and your heart gurgles and your stomach skips a beat. And then you smile at the woman walking her
dog and ask her the name of this place and then you’re talking about her family
and her shop and suddenly you’re there and looking at the sweaters they dyed
and knit and spun and sheared and you are given a wool keychain but then the
sun like King Midas touches the clouds and turns them to gold and then you’re
off but thanking and exchanging email addresses and driving again and thinking
about who will share their lives with you next, with your cheeks and ribs aching
from so much smiling and so much loving – because you just love so so much here
– and it seems like there’s nothing else.
It’s… this overwhelming, ineffable thrill: to explore, to meet, to
share, to redefine, to love, to truly truly be.
It feels like the whole world is right here, offering itself to you, and
you have to take it because it is everything and everything and everything and
everything.
In here.
My Travel Map:
