1. The crash of waves on a hidden beach somewhere lost in France. The cliffs rising high around us, so much so they appear to touch the clouds. The sky clear, a mirror of the forever ocean in front of us. The waves taste of salt and possibility, and the air smells fresh and sweet. And fishy.
2. A rocky scrabble. A final climb to the top of Africa. A pounding in my veins, of the altitude and the oxygen. A bead of sweat, stealthy climbing down your forehead. We stand straight, for the first time in hours. Still. Swaying like the grasses so far below, and the waves on a hidden beach. Our breathing slows. And the world goes on. And on.
3. Stealing through a sleepy city. I hear the smell of old books calling, we see the dust rising from their pages and the stories they tell floating around. There is a notion of voices from long ago. They make conversation over pasta, speaking of so many beginnings and endings and everything in-betweens. Cathedrals and coliseums.
4. You tap my shoulder and we run through the rain, taking care to splash in all of the puddles in these cobbled streets. Caution is thrown to the wind, our voices sing the screams we feel; our laughter keeping us dry. Unknown words drift by, broken by the not-soft tapping of the rain. A palace. A kingdom. Centuries of conquest. And a large clock tower, calling us back from the whispers of so long ago.
5. Crickets in a field. Summer wind blows fall closer, but I try and hold on anyways. I always do. A burst of adult laughter from my kitchen up the hill. I point to the stars breathing in their dust that falls around us. You grab my hand. Your fingers are warm, pulsing with life. They squeeze my palm. Millions of years ago they were created by rocks, and matter, and stuff close enough only to imagine. I smile. You make me do that sometimes.
6. White sand that claims to be perfectly imperfect. I dig my toes in, saying hi to stretching them. You gaze out across the crystal water. Palm trees sway to a silent tune that only they hear. Drum beats are somewhere. The wind is in my hair.
7. Hello, bonjour, hallo, Γειά σου, ciao, hola, こんにちは. Plane tickets, stickers, worn-out sneakers. Crumpled checks and ice water. Sunscreen, running, breath in. Out. Umbrellas and raincoats and the occasional drizzle. Looking up. Looking out. Camera flashes, photographs, laughing at old memories. Stairs-- lots of stairs. Dancing, street lamps, keys, and passports. さようなら, adios, addio, αντιο σας, auf wiedersehen, au revoir, goodbye.
Oh, the places we’ll go.
2. A rocky scrabble. A final climb to the top of Africa. A pounding in my veins, of the altitude and the oxygen. A bead of sweat, stealthy climbing down your forehead. We stand straight, for the first time in hours. Still. Swaying like the grasses so far below, and the waves on a hidden beach. Our breathing slows. And the world goes on. And on.
3. Stealing through a sleepy city. I hear the smell of old books calling, we see the dust rising from their pages and the stories they tell floating around. There is a notion of voices from long ago. They make conversation over pasta, speaking of so many beginnings and endings and everything in-betweens. Cathedrals and coliseums.
4. You tap my shoulder and we run through the rain, taking care to splash in all of the puddles in these cobbled streets. Caution is thrown to the wind, our voices sing the screams we feel; our laughter keeping us dry. Unknown words drift by, broken by the not-soft tapping of the rain. A palace. A kingdom. Centuries of conquest. And a large clock tower, calling us back from the whispers of so long ago.
5. Crickets in a field. Summer wind blows fall closer, but I try and hold on anyways. I always do. A burst of adult laughter from my kitchen up the hill. I point to the stars breathing in their dust that falls around us. You grab my hand. Your fingers are warm, pulsing with life. They squeeze my palm. Millions of years ago they were created by rocks, and matter, and stuff close enough only to imagine. I smile. You make me do that sometimes.
6. White sand that claims to be perfectly imperfect. I dig my toes in, saying hi to stretching them. You gaze out across the crystal water. Palm trees sway to a silent tune that only they hear. Drum beats are somewhere. The wind is in my hair.
7. Hello, bonjour, hallo, Γειά σου, ciao, hola, こんにちは. Plane tickets, stickers, worn-out sneakers. Crumpled checks and ice water. Sunscreen, running, breath in. Out. Umbrellas and raincoats and the occasional drizzle. Looking up. Looking out. Camera flashes, photographs, laughing at old memories. Stairs-- lots of stairs. Dancing, street lamps, keys, and passports. さようなら, adios, addio, αντιο σας, auf wiedersehen, au revoir, goodbye.
Oh, the places we’ll go.
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