Chrisonomicon

Wednesday, January 15, 2003

The mountain air welcomed me home with a cool, dry, enveloping embrace, pulling the remaining humidity that clung to my clothes and hair and skin with a motherly punctilio. Returns home are always bittersweet.

The short time spent in balmy weather further cemented my decision to move to the southern coast when my life will permit it, where the seasons merge into an inifinite flow of time, inspire music made of movement through the thick air and call down gifts of fire from Olympus. I forgot about green, it's vibrancy, it's compliment of red blood, singing life! and stretching towards the light. And then there's the blue that in retrospect draws the long bow, appears as hyperbole. I deplane and the colors disperse into the pale landscape, gas molecules in a vacuum.

And things have been cleared up on the homefront, leaving email and laundry and books and Centipede to be dealt with. I feel the potential stream through my pores like so much green and blue life.