The front of my home is full of windows. Standing there I can see the sky; grey, daunting, full of water and reasons to stay inside. Those shapes and shades drive me to my kitchen. Something warm, lemon and ginger, cinnamon perhaps, to chase it all away and keep me here.
Another window rests above the back door. Reaching for a mug a beam strikes my eye. I turn and see the pink and orange horizon, cheerfully painted over the buildings and electrical wires. I am forced to recognize, all too often, the world is never any single thing at any given time. It fills me with such dread and happiness that I throw open the door and do not know where I should go.
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