For some reason I have a misunderstood fantasy of owning a little
blue house with a white picket fence in a small
rustic town away from the crumbling chaos of society.
I am also drawn to white sheets blowing in the wind on a 1950's
clothesline (odd, but pretty and simple).
The Everlasting Dirt Road.
Another dream of mine is to one day visit the deep Bayou of
Mississippi. Each lumbering tree has a story to tell
and every evening when the sun goes down the sweet song
of the bluesy wind puts the land into a deep sleep.
Lanterns glowing in the dark of night
The Beauty of the Tuscan sun consumes the valley and hills and
gives Italy that saturated gold color.
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