love

It was a flow of days and nights she had been in the garden. Moon had died and reborn while her stay drawing invisible trajectories. They were many curves in two dimensions, in three it was orbit moon was gliding. She saw far and deep down under her autumn skin. Beauty was in all directions. She was opening. Her gaze sharpening. Other senses waking up in a slower tempo. She had become aware of some sort of presence that there was in the garden... to like flirt with her. She did not know why she was able to trust presence was for good. For her. She knew it had been waiting for her. How she knew she didn't know. She had given a little response to that presence. It was through her body in soft silence. She would have been able to hear snowflakes travelling down, so quiet it was. Feel the weight up in the air. She would have loved to feel fluffy flakes with lots of holes landing on her warm skin, making her fresh with greetings from above, then look white becoming silverish for a short moment before turning into transparent water with colours of a rainbow. She would have loved to see streams. Presence was a living power so strong it became possible for her to see life. To see death. Presence touched her deep receptors making it possible for her to see what was alive what was dead under her skin. She saw how much she had been carrying death in her body from the outside of the garden. She realized how her body had been her shelter outside the garden to protect her living self. It was wisdom of a body to protect the source of life in her when she was not able to do it herself. She couldn't find words to describe how all this was. She knew she wanted to go to that life in her. Body had built a wall nobody could break. Only love could. She knew this garden was with the presence of love. As a daughter of a family next to forest she had been taught nothing would start growing when moon was dying. She did not know if this was a garden where everything grew despite the moon. If everything was to become alive despite the moon, despite the death how dead.

gardening

This garden was who She was. She had been walked to the gate of her true self she now knew. This was a place for her dreams to come true. She was finding. She wanted to be found. One might say She was a funny mixture. She was with eyes that remembered a lot. She saw much and made a lot to be seen. Her senses practised hedonism. Other parts of her body moved. Her unseen mind talked a lot. She was on a way to a balance. It was night She was born, sparkling stars surrouding her millions of miles away leaving her subtle space to start growing up. She loved Mother Space. She read books and watched documents of planets and stars, they thrilled her soul. In quantum physics and chaos theory she saw plain beauty. She was waiting for a day to see somebody finish Theory of Everything. She admired Stephen Hawking. She knew he had lost hope of finding TOE, it was far beyond mankind's level of understanding. She was dreaming of being an astronaut, that appealed to her sentimentality. She was very sentimental. She wanted to say Words "there are no borders". She loved Words. Word. Word of God. On Planet Earth She loved space. Spaces. She played in spaces. Searched for her very own Feng Shui. She never slept under a crystal chandelier. Oh no. Not a very good Feng Shui if it crashed her. That was only for developed monks. She was with colours white red blue brown gold silver. She lived in them. Her home was a laboratory where to mix things to see what worked for her. She read foreign magazines to gulp down pictures. She collected books. Danish style was very much for her. Simple, cosy and funny with a little luxorious touch. Vintage, flea market style, New England, Long Island, French and English country... Lexington, Cath Kidston, Green Gate, Riviera Maison. Laura Ashley. Very feminine. Light blue was a colour she was born to. That was a very first colour She loved. She knew environment with light blue activated parasympatic nervous system. In environment that kind it became easier to catch one's subconscious. She was intuitive. She was sensitive for athmospheres. She once passed a store for women's luxorious underwear. She liked the style in store okay until she saw heather on the table. Heather? Hello, heather in tired purple in a dead gray pot. To caress your senses? She wanted to see few lazy open roses on the table. White, with a long stem, in a size and shape of a tea cup. Or C-cup. In a bright bowl made of A-class glass. Or in a big white simplified porcelain jug. Making you want to enjoy one more weekend in a mansion in the Hamptons. She did not know if she was bitter or very perceptive. Very.