Been dreaming of warmer places...with Reggae playing soundtrack in my head. Fitting. Looking south toward Albuquerque, knowing I have too much history in that town, even though I have only been there a few times in my life.
Letting go takes some kind of courage--a courage I may just not have. I thought I did. I thought I released the past and let it fly away like a free bird, but here it is staring me in the face again. It always comes around again, doesn't it?
I won't go there. To the past. To Albuquerque. The Air Force is poisoning the land, poisoning my mind, ruining everything I thought pure. Even the warm sun on my face cannot erase the facts. Facts speak louder than emotions, and louder than the voices in my head, calling me deeper into New Mexico. "It just isn't safe," says reason to the romantic dreamer. The sun shines here too. And I would miss the sage.
