Moving In
The Muse Letter No. 129
Look around. Look around. You’re here.
A light cool breeze is entering the room creating a sweet amalgam with the incense that are slowly burning on the dressing table, the leaves softly shaking, some swallows flying by, I think they must be nesting under the roof.
The pocket doors wide open from when I got up to get some tea and warm up the chocolate croissant I got the evening before. I can look into the living room, a giant monstera, plants everywhere, books, candles, dried up roses from the midsummer gathering, friends who warmed up the place, when I had just moved in the day before. Last night just me and S lying on a couch each, sipping tea, resting, talking, watching the light fade into night.
Look around. Look around. You’re here.
I press the little nasturtium seeds into the damp soil, my pointing finger creating little holes, 1 inch deep. A year ago, I had left a flowering garden behind me, now I am pressing seeds again. On a balcony this time, …