Asleep with the birds and awake with the dawn. It is easy to fall into the rhythms of the world here. A break from our familiar world of off to work in the dark and home in the dark to start the life of us.
It would be nice to think that this is the sum of life, to just exist and put on top the things we like that add to beauty.
A leisurely cooked breakfast at 8 or nine if we like. Outside with a view and quietude. The few pots and pans cleaned quickly, left to dry. The rest of the day to decide what to do around art and poetry and drawing.
The supermarket is out of town. A bit hard to find, nestled in the trees. There is a sign. It may even be neon. It is by itself and looks small, but it is everything in one. Past washing machines and cooking chooks, you enter the sliding doors. Wine and techno, laundry and fish, clothing and canned goods. It is all there, all here.
At the market the was a rockmelon, small and round and super sweet. My father would approve. Wish I could take it back for him. Weighed and charged, about $1.40.
At the supermarket was a rockmelon. Weighed and charged, it was not $1.40. It may have been much much more, or was it the wine. Never really figured it out. It was either free or heaps. Or the wine was free or sort of ok.
What value. They keep this village pretty. They keep the village pure, or sort of.
We call or mall "the square" The Square.
The square is huge. The square is the biggest mall in the Southern Hemisphere or will be when it is finished. It is big and bustly and full of noise. Imposing. A shrine to rampant consumerism. They all worship there. We all do in some form. My mother refuses. She abhors the task of fighting for her place in the queue to add more and more and even more to the huge houses full of stuff and more stuff and maybe one being. Maybe two....maybe even a precious extension of the self, a child.
How are we able to bring this simple beauty back into the world from which we came? We pay a lot for this simplicity. How to cut the noise. Not worship at the citadel of self indulgence.
Help me Lord, O help me.
It would be nice to think that this is the sum of life, to just exist and put on top the things we like that add to beauty.
A leisurely cooked breakfast at 8 or nine if we like. Outside with a view and quietude. The few pots and pans cleaned quickly, left to dry. The rest of the day to decide what to do around art and poetry and drawing.
The supermarket is out of town. A bit hard to find, nestled in the trees. There is a sign. It may even be neon. It is by itself and looks small, but it is everything in one. Past washing machines and cooking chooks, you enter the sliding doors. Wine and techno, laundry and fish, clothing and canned goods. It is all there, all here.
At the market the was a rockmelon, small and round and super sweet. My father would approve. Wish I could take it back for him. Weighed and charged, about $1.40.
At the supermarket was a rockmelon. Weighed and charged, it was not $1.40. It may have been much much more, or was it the wine. Never really figured it out. It was either free or heaps. Or the wine was free or sort of ok.
What value. They keep this village pretty. They keep the village pure, or sort of.
We call or mall "the square" The Square.
The square is huge. The square is the biggest mall in the Southern Hemisphere or will be when it is finished. It is big and bustly and full of noise. Imposing. A shrine to rampant consumerism. They all worship there. We all do in some form. My mother refuses. She abhors the task of fighting for her place in the queue to add more and more and even more to the huge houses full of stuff and more stuff and maybe one being. Maybe two....maybe even a precious extension of the self, a child.
How are we able to bring this simple beauty back into the world from which we came? We pay a lot for this simplicity. How to cut the noise. Not worship at the citadel of self indulgence.
Help me Lord, O help me.
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