A Walk on the Terrace

You stand still as the sky moves around you,
Each dark leaf silhouetted in the midnight orange-blue.
The wind and the crickets take turns speaking to you,
Can this too be law school?

Hugging yourself, fluttering against the breeze,
On a square of terrace on one of many clustered orange buildings.
You're barely discernible from the darkness-
Only a pair of shining eyes, reflecting stars unseen.
You can feel the sky, the wind, the slow spinning of the earth,
As the clouds are shepherded by above.
A forest of trees surrounds you, protects you, beckons you.
You're alone in the world-
It's only you, and your story and adventure,
Waiting to unfold.

You stand still as the sky moves around you,
Each dark leaf silhouetted in the orange-blue.
The wind and the crickets take turns speaking to you,
And you realize- this too is law school.

~Sam

A Description

Hello, lovelies. It's been almost a month since I've last blogged-for that, I'm sorry, mostly to myself.
Here's a little thing I wrote a while ago. One day, I hope to make it part of a story.

The weather was beautiful, the breeze stirring. I was on the terrace, and the sky was the Dreamworks sky again, the stars patterned just for me, in a language I couldn’t decipher and didn’t need to. I chatted with the boy who’d liked me, and whom I cared for most when he didn’t, and wished it were socially acceptable to speak with friends the way I do with a blank page, wished I could describe this moment of pure scenic joy, pure Keatsian beauty, like this, to him. 

Love. 

~Sam

I dream.

Of being on the New York Times bestseller list.
Of having memes of my quotes, fangirls (boys?) of me.
Of being happy.
Of being sexy.
Of finding Him.
Of being beautiful, in love.
Of chocolate cake.
Of opening a bakery. (I can't bake, this won't happen.)
Of marrying a baker.
Of bakery-scented deodorants. (Yes, I like bakeries.)
Of comfortable stilettos.
Of long, beautiful hair.
Of a beautiful house, and an even more beautiful home.
Of a world with no mosquitoes, cockroaches, rats, lizards or hate. (The rest, I can live with.)
Of flawless skin.
Of tasty health-food. (Again, not happening any time soon.)
Of a world of love.
Of a world I love.

I dream of writing something beautiful, something original, something so deep, so profound, that everyone can see its truth, everyone can feel it; that no one has words to express their awe, that everyone will remember always, and quote, and dwell on, and revel in. I dream of writing something that is mine.

~Sam

Though these days of course, I pretty much just dream of sleep. 

Dreams and Butterflies

So Malko called me up the other day with a brilliant idea to change our blog name to "Dreamcatchers". Because we're always hankering after dreams, see? Now I don't know what exactly is happening with that, but my brain being my brain, came up with a metaphor.
Butterflies.
They're so similar to dreams, no?
Unreal. A butterfly fluttered by the other day and I could have sworn it looked animated.
Fragile. Hold on to one too long, or too strong, and it will die right there in your hands.
Much much too hard to catch. Run after them, and run, and run. And every time you come too close, they'll flutter away, just a little farther, and a little more, and a little more.
Capricious. Flower to flower to flower. Dream to dream to dream.
Beautiful. Joyous. Lovely.
And oh-so-necessary for life.

~Sam