Day 15: The Textures of Xizhou
Ah, mountainous ground.
The mountainous, mountainous ground.
The smooth of the silk splayed across my palms and the Linden walls my fingers dance upon. Callouses on my fingertips and the dryness of my lips, leathery and feathery like my personality. I feel the ground through my shoes, the uneven, crooked roads, that will eventually lead me to my destination, a thousand miles from home. I feel rice on my tongue, pebble-ish and tasteful, I feel my bed under my feet, the dreamlike state of excitement.
I feel wood beneath my toes, creaking gently under my steps. I feel plastic against my palms, music emanating from the piano. I feel the rough and cold of the wind, hair flying the frenzy of frigid. I feel my watch heavy and smooth atop my left wrist, the time ticking and tocking.
I feel a million contrasting things, a new one every second.
But never have I noticed, what lovely things they are.