Quand Il Fait Nuageux

    The sky is pale grey, the sunlight, unable to penetrate the blanket of clouds, casts a muted glow onto the bare branches below. An eerie tranquility hangs in the air and the world is still. The buzz of silence is all that can be heard; indeed, even silence has a sound. Not a bird sings, not a fox trots, I stand in the snow, silent as well. I am as still as the world around me, afraid the slightest movement will awaken the world from its trance.

    But, the world cannot stay still forever; I take a step forward.  

    A bird takes flight, landing on a branch nearby. Its song fills my ears as snow begins to fall. Rays of sunlight filter through thin wisps of cloud as the grey blanket begins to part. The ground is dappled with pale sunlight, shifting, fading, glowing.

    The world has been stirred from its slumber, smiling slowly it begins to move once more.  

Rainwater Tide Pools

    Whispers across a dewy field tell of the morning rain. Rainwater tide pools linger to preserve its memory. Softly trickling, the tide pools begin to empty, soon they too will be gone.

    

    Golden grasses that have long been dormant stir from their sleep in the soft current, as light Spring breezes whisk away the wintry air. Rippling, the surfaces of the tide pools tremble in the wind. Ripples, the breezes of water, coax the grasses to sway, their gentle touch gliding softly over each sleepy blade, not yet awake. Submerged in the tranquil waters, some smile in their sleep, unaware of the waters' silent farewell. 

    With one last caress, one last ripple, the waters recede from the swaying grasses, and the grasses sway no more. Still sleeping in blissful oblivion, they wonder if the memory of the gentle touch of rainwater tide pools was all a dream. 

Solitary Nights

Silence.

    Not a sound can be heard outside my bedroom window. The world is asleep, lost in a myriad of universes that we call dreams.

Click

       clack 
              
               click.

    The rhythmic tapping of keyboard keys, a tiny sound in this large city, sounds suddenly incredibly loud. I pause, ashamed of breaking the tranquil silence. A night breeze flutters through the window, playing with the strands of my hair, inviting the sheer white drapes to join them in a dance. A tree, with its darkened limbs painted in shadows, rustles in the distance, whispering secrets I will never live to understand.

    Indeed, while we sleep the world is ever-watching, coaxing those who cannot yet sleep into peaceful slumber.

    If only I could sleep, but stacks of paper, like glistening snow after a heavy snowfall, lie undisturbed on my table. Dim lamplight reminds me of what I must finish. This is the life of a student. The life of an adult. Of anyone past childhood.

    Few can escape the fate of solitary nights. Yet, perhaps they are a blessing of sorts. Because for one night, we have the world, with its countless stars, sweet crisp breezes, and the taste of fading seasons, to ourselves.

    And it never fails to keep us company.

Leaving Wonderland

"I don't understand why Alice left Wonderland." 

    I like that quote.

    One would have to wonder why she left such a mysterious, beautiful world for a life that I'm not sure if she was happy have. Even if she was happy, would she not be happy in Wonderland? If I were her, I would continue exploring such a vast world where time appeared to hold no meaning. Can you imagine? A world without time. Our society revolves around time; we could not function otherwise.

    That's why dreams are so precious. An adventure that appears to last for hours, weeks, a lifetime even, spans only a matter of minutes or seconds. I wish to return to my dreams. There is no pain, no death, and even the most impossible things can happen. Of course, there are nightmares too, and perhaps to Alice, Wonderland was a nightmare. That is what makes dreams dangerous, dark, and sinister at times. A matter of seconds can instill a sense of fear incredibly powerful and make it appear as though it lasted for an endless amount of time.

    Alice, why did you leave? Were you content with your real life? Why are we often not content with our lives nowadays, constantly craving for adventure, something different? Asking for too much is never a good idea. Perhaps Alice knew too well that life is not always meant for such adventures, and that life's normal, "little"  adventures in comparison, such as discovering a new bookstore, meeting a new friend (or even more than that), are perfectly, wonderfully, enough.

    Would I want to go to Wonderland? Not until I am sure I am discontent with my life right now. Not until I have no one around me who cares for me, nothing around me that I have yet to learn, to listen to, to admire. Not until then. However, we must always remember that there are people who care about us (even if it may not appear to be so), there are things to seen and heard, that there are many things to be fascinated about, not just Wonderland.

    That means, I will likely never want to journey to Wonderland, much less prolong my stay. Alice, I think, maybe, just maybe, I understand.