|| Surviving Chimney // Asheville NC ||
I don’t know much about you, but I can’t imagine you’re that different from us.
Like you, we uncovered ancient things and couldn’t help asking questions about them; questions like “How did this come to be here?” or “Who made this?”
We speculated histories, made educated calculations. We projected.
Often, if we couldn’t find the answer, we’d make one up.
Some mornings, you’d awaken suicidal with the thought of starting it all over again.
The banality. The routine of day-to-day life.
But if you could just manage to amble outside, you’d usually find something–sometimes something as simple as a barn sitting sparsely visible in a fog–that would set you right again.
It was strange how it was the mundane that gave you fits, and it was also the mundane that lifted you up from them.
Barn at Dawn. It gave you peace.
apochralypse 