The buildings look tired, worn out from the hundreds of years of history. The graffiti covers the pale paint job that has withered from the weather. The columns, grand gothic structures, peer down, letting me know that my time in this central European city is coming to an end. The ground floor is inhabited by bright lights, loud advertisements, and self absorbed humans, buying plans and products they probably do not need. I can see into the intimate lives of others as the bright bulbs burning in their living rooms illuminate their world. The tram passes by with a loud grunt and all of a sudden the people around me begin to run, exercising their legs and saving them from the cold December weather...
Daydreaming of Unknown Memories
Sometimes I daydream about what it would be like if I lived in the 1960s. I am wearing a long, flowing skirt, one that grazes my ankles and occasionally tickles my toes as I walk barefoot through the grass. It is an olive green color as I have always been drawn to the dark, tranquil hue. A loose fitting cotton white shirt, embroidered with a faint floral design, hangs loosely against my upper body. Naturally, there is a crown of dandelions that regularly falls off of my long, brown hair. It is early May and I am surrounded by friends, one who is most likely strumming away at the guitar. I am part of the peace movement, regularly advocating for the end of the war and free flowing love...