I Dream of Escape — Escape to the Farm.
Most people want to buy a house in the city, but I daydream of returning to my roots — having grown up on a farm, I want to go back to simpler rhythms.
When I live on the farm, I shall grow strong, corded musculature.
When I live on the farm, I will nurture the crops of my choice — lavender, berries and irises.
When I get away from this light speed life, I will write for longer and more connected. Perhaps I shall bind long enough for the press.
When the city lights no longer spill into the sky, I will see the stars much clearer. My eyes will settle and my mind will see again.
When I have space for a garden, I shall grow my own vegetables and eat by the season. Canning and jamming and pickling shall be my calendar.
When it is my own space, I shall have the soft companionship of a Catto.
When I have my own time I will have more energy to eat better.
When I have my farm, I shall wear long, billowy linen, fluttering upon the breeze I will be a beacon upon the hill.
All these excuses of waiting for a farm to materialise before making the changes needed to live the life I want.
