Inky: Last day of vacation, tomorrow signals a return to reality. Where have I been? Somewhere very similar to the above. No phones, no folk, no computers. It was wonderful.
Today it’s raining, and I’m snuggled in my easy chair watching science channel, soup bubbling on the stove. Tomorrow will be time enough to think about alarms, and early mornings…
Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines.
Quote: George R. R. Martin
Image: Ben Heine
Listening to: Stop, Sam Brown
Time after time I’ve tried to walk away
But it’s not that easy when your soul is torn in two