The middle of the city does not lend itself to much quiet contemplation.
Manufactured waterfalls do little to satiate one's natural desire for nature.
But I look to the sky and I see the clouds in wisps and billows, and if I look high enough I can imagine I'm lying on a grassy hill far above this urban scene.
Focus carefully, then, on the clouds
and the chlorinated fountain begins to smell like lilacs;
the engines like a campfire;
the car alarms sound like birds;
the wind is always wind.
Suddenly, secretly, I am free.
The secret to freedom is not where you find yourself, but where your mind can go.
No comments:
Post a Comment