i don't think i want this city life anymore

quiet notes from my journal #3

i think i'd like to hear the birds in the morning and pick stray blades of grass off my feet as i walk into my kitchen from my sun-drenched garden. i’d like to hear the sound of boiling water pouring into my favourite mug without a car horn or truck racing by in the background. maybe the sound of the wind playing with autumn leaves from our kitchen window that overlooks the garden. i’d like to hear the sound of the lawn mower and watch c tend to our little patch of nature. i’d like to hear the sound of a slow train passing by, not in any rush, slowly pulling into a station with a near-empty platform, for people who wanted a bit of quiet for the weekend. i’d like to hear the sound of a woodpecker near by, or an owl, crickets! the sounds of the night that aren’t cars and night buses and glass bottles being kicked around the street.

i think sometimes i’d like to hear nothing at all. i’d like to stop in the middle of a field, look around me and feel like i fell into a monet painting. it’s summer and everything is still. the heat is beating down on us, so much so that you feel like you could bite it. our hands are sweaty from holding them as we walk through the soft butter air. we let go and there is no wind to cool our palms. the blades of grass beneath our feet and in the distance could be tiny little statues. the leaves that hang full, green and heavy on the trees could be asleep. a bird flaps its wings somewhere and then it stops. then it is silent again. no cars, no buses, no people, no notifications, just a lone bird in the sky and a bee drinking nectar nearby.