the breeze here is delicious in a way that it can only be when near the water.there is something about water- especially large bodies of water, that makes me feel peaceful and small and contained and part of something larger- something that moves with the moon.
i'm looking out over lake victoria. zoe and i are here together to pick up my mom who flies in tonight. its our girls night out.
a little biplane just flew overhead- reminding me of denys finchatten - the unwilling to be committed lover of karen blixen- who was in love with her and africa and himself. i wonder what the world here looked like back then from a biplane? looking down on this lake, and the mountains and fields and feeling the breeze of that africa from way up in a windowless plane. those images were the africa that i first loved- before i had smelled the spicy burning myself. those pictures, and songs and stories were so full of mystery, so far away.
below us, the smoke is rising above a mango tree, it's reaching us, blurring the view, but making the view, so complete and earthy and real.
most of life is lived with things burning in our yards and not from a biplane. most of our days are not beside the lakes and oceans of the world. most of our days are full of the routines and repetition that we both dread and want escape from, but are the first things we'd crave and cry for if they were gone.
zoe and i can hear the squawk of birds and the chirping of children and the softness of norah jones. the sun has gone, the earth grows blue, people are moving down paths on their feet. and far off in the distance, we can hear a plane.
i'm looking out over lake victoria. zoe and i are here together to pick up my mom who flies in tonight. its our girls night out.
a little biplane just flew overhead- reminding me of denys finchatten - the unwilling to be committed lover of karen blixen- who was in love with her and africa and himself. i wonder what the world here looked like back then from a biplane? looking down on this lake, and the mountains and fields and feeling the breeze of that africa from way up in a windowless plane. those images were the africa that i first loved- before i had smelled the spicy burning myself. those pictures, and songs and stories were so full of mystery, so far away.
below us, the smoke is rising above a mango tree, it's reaching us, blurring the view, but making the view, so complete and earthy and real.
most of life is lived with things burning in our yards and not from a biplane. most of our days are not beside the lakes and oceans of the world. most of our days are full of the routines and repetition that we both dread and want escape from, but are the first things we'd crave and cry for if they were gone.
zoe and i can hear the squawk of birds and the chirping of children and the softness of norah jones. the sun has gone, the earth grows blue, people are moving down paths on their feet. and far off in the distance, we can hear a plane.
2 comments:
You have such a gift of description. I will have to be careful that I don't start some conversation with words like, "When I was in Africa,,," because you make me almost think I've been there.
thanks susan! so funny- you've been sort of :)
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