blow up in crystal colors

by Rachel Lynch in , ,

96900002 copy 96900004 copy 96900008 copy 96900019 copy 96900021 copy 96900026 copy 96910005 copy 96910007 copy 96910009 copy 96910012 copy 96910020 copy 96920005 copy 96920009 copy 96920014 copy 96920016 copy 96920018 copy 96920021 copy poco1 poconos1 poconos2 poconos3 poconos5 poconos6 poconos7 poconos8 poconos10 poconos12 poconos13The day begins with a walk in the forest. Or maybe it was night. The two blend like melted candle wax in the haze of a midnight conversation.

We sell ourselves to the evergreens. The afternoon sun comes down in sharp focus, then the colors begin. Looking up at the sun was like looking through a prism. We could see every color. Perhaps everything in the sky is a rainbow, mostly naked to the human eye. The purple, yellow, red and blue drip into my hand. No boundaries.

We run across the rows of light and head back into the forest. We are lost. We forge our own trail. I can hear the river running like it was rushing through my blood stream. Everything so alive, the animals with eyes the size of the moon. Staring competitions with packs of deers, and constant hand holding. I've never seen anything so green, or anything so blue. Butterflies come out of no where like the pages of comic books.

We race down the road to our little red room, where we sprawl on the floor and built a fire. A million colors and one sketchpad, taking turns bringing to life the pictures in our minds. Braided hair and lace kimonos. Beads and bellbottoms. Those rock and rollers. I'll just lay with my head in your hands.

We run across the pool room, so scared of the outside world. Then we make a mockery of it at dinner, playing a little game with everyone else. Holy roller. Watch the world grow darker. The night is alive in the glitter of our eyes and the curiosity of our minds. We explore everything once again, but this time in a new light. Bottle of champagne on the road. The sky over the sea has grown dark and the florescent lights turn on everywhere. Soaked into your mind. Laying beside you staring at the celling. Share with me your ideas, the ones you forget sometimes are yours. Can't you see, you're not the only one.

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