The world, a tangled mess of war and famine, remains a beautiful thing. So often the minute details, the individual stitches that hold the patchwork together, are overlooked. It becomes natural to miss the very thing that reflects back at you. In discovering life, the one I live my experiences in, I have noticed things I never have before – one season spilling into another, patterns in strawberry fields, long shadows cast by tall trees. Feeling a bit like Alice after she plummeted down the rabbit hole, my perspective has morphed from cavalier to a deeper understanding.

Images of pastoral settings weigh heavy on my heart, calling to mind memories of lush grass tickling my bandaged knees while the scent of honeysuckle, so sweet and pungent, fills the air with richness. Stretching upwards to the bellies of the clouds, the amber colored rocks of a steep mountainside stack up unevenly like the thick chapters of a classic Dickens novel, so wonderfully disjointed. I hear my sister between broken giggles, a melodic offering of tag-you’re-it. Her long hair streaked with gold catches in the sunlight as she pulls me back to reality.

Summer is already being cast aside for the cooler months that autumn offers, the leaves once an elaborate shade of jade, now yellowing slightly while loosening their grip on the twisted branches of trees. Soon, the days will be short and the nights will be frosty.

Droplets of rain trickle down the windowpane like tears on the cheeks of a young child, creating wet pathways along their journey. Quenching the dry earth of its thirst, petals cower against the weight of the shower while rainbow pools of gasoline puddle upon the pavement. Stars cling to their black canvass like little pinpricks in a piece of paper, breaking the darkness with their constant light. The dulcet drumming lulls me off to dream.