dear village people diary,
i wish we had streets made of stones and sidewalks lined with flowers. i wish the limbs of the trees stretched over into the streets and swans swam in every pond. i wish there was no kind of grass but zoysia grass and i wish i could eat my lunch on it every afternoon in the warm sunshine on a blanket my grandmother made in 1950. there are special people in this world. we don't ask to be special- we are just born this way. others test and try to control how we will adhere to the possibility of being special only to one- only to someone- but it never works. we are special to all. to breathe in- to breath out- to hold air in your mouth. not to compromise what is said- but to deny others whose skin is shed- the chance of further protection from something they cannot see- they need no protection from me.
i wish we had streets made of stones and sidewalks lined with flowers. i wish the limbs of the trees stretched over into the streets and swans swam in every pond. i wish there was no kind of grass but zoysia grass and i wish i could eat my lunch on it every afternoon in the warm sunshine on a blanket my grandmother made in 1950. there are special people in this world. we don't ask to be special- we are just born this way. others test and try to control how we will adhere to the possibility of being special only to one- only to someone- but it never works. we are special to all. to breathe in- to breath out- to hold air in your mouth. not to compromise what is said- but to deny others whose skin is shed- the chance of further protection from something they cannot see- they need no protection from me.
