stealing horses

by Rachel Lynch in


I have runaway to find myself, for I am not where I left me. No indeed, it would be much too simple to walk into the house and see your ambitions hanging in the foyer. And up the spiral staircase would hang your paintings, each one in order with their colors progressing like the seasons. And your bedroom would hold the softest sheets for deepest slumber; And the room would reveal your sighs in it's dark red walls.

No, nothing is really that easy. The house is not going to reveal deepest ambitions in the foyer or upon the walls. The bedroom will be home to nights of insomnia, debating if your art is really worth anything at all.  You're going to half to climb one- hundred stairs into the attic and spend hours digging through the dusty boxes to find what you really want.