i am discovering this world, not unlike a newborn: scent by scent, piece by piece. and aren’t we all?
no questions plague me, no worries weigh me down and nothing seems to matter very much at all. estoy contento.
it’s all about times like this in life: when air grows warm and shallow and eyelids flutter, cascading downwards to close in a sort of tired midnight bliss.
it’s times like this. times where you sit by the radiator, mid-october, and listen to life happen outside your window, noise by noise, laugh by laugh, the voices merging with the wind and night.
and all you feel is warmth, a yearning for a hibernation.
as nights grow longer – a pressing need to forget all and sleep in; to snuggle up for that one moment more, underneath the covers vividly coloured with summer – oranges and fuscia pinks – and dream of snow.
i want the frigid maiden winter and all her hidden joys: falling flat on your face iceskating, hot chocolate held in cupped frozen hands, reading old classics under the covers, red noses, father christmas and the constant sparkle of magic in the air.
i want it all and yet estoy contento with all i have right now, right here: the oranges and reds, the windy mornings drizzling with rain of new beginnings.
i have it all, your fingers in my hair.