It's days like today that I feel that anything is possible. It's days like yesterday that I feel like nothing is. It makes me wonder which is the more accurate perception of reality, and I think for all of us, accuracy lies somewhere in the blurry lines of in between.
Today's potential had much to do with sunlight just a tad too warm and a breeze that's temperature was nothing less than perfect. Every time it lifted my hair away from my neck, it carried magic with it, tempting and teasing like something phenomenal was waiting just around the corner. It wasn't. Only more deceitful breeze. The wind's fingers across my skin, though, and its playfulness with the clouds against the cerulean backdrop I'll take any day, despite its duplicitous promise of more.
Yesterday had nothing at all to do with the weather, but then the weather acquiesced to my mood: the sky growing dark, the light in my bedroom turning gray, and the clouds unleashing drops that fell hard against the pavement and bounced back upwards in defiance. It eventually settled into the kind of gentle drizzle that had me merging into a warm, fluffy mass with the too many pillows on my bed, drowsiness rubbing away thought and replacing it with the bliss of unknowing. I have a feeling that figuring out the intricacies of this human soul is going to take a lifetime.
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