Slow living

You know what’s sad?

That I will never wake up in a quaint cottage

To the smell of brown

You know what smell I’m talking about

The undertone from brown food that’s not really there?

From hot cocoa, from chocolate cake, light brown biscuits?

The smell of brown, the smell of warmth

You know what’s heartbreaking?

That I will not live in a very quiet quaint village

One very close to a mountain

In my cottage where I wake up to the sun streaking through curtains

Curtains with patterns that coordinate but don’t really match

You know what’s gut wrenching?

That I will not walk out onto a cobblestone path every morning

That I will not turn my camera to the mountain

Catch the sunrise still dancing in the air

It’s a shame isn’t it?

To know that there’s no such place for me

No place for me to live slow and love hard