Friday, June 17, 2011
a place that we call home
Hope and misery juxtaposed. Knowing that both exist for good reason.
This place is home for me, not because it's the greatest locale of all time ever but because it's where most of the people I love are and where I find community through credo, common interests, and creativity, work that is pretty awesome most of the time, and I've learned how not to get bored, to keep sane in a place that sometimes seems hellbent on breaking us.
Even in the shadow of industrial ruin and brownfield, the land is still verdant. The wild grapevines and sweet-smelling honeysuckle reclaiming the land, mulberry trees and wild raspberries provide sweetness, sand and water to wade through and watch sunsets over.
To find beauty in the thorns and overgrownness, a pleasing aesthetic in rusted geometry, laughter in the absurdity of existing in the land of rust and old things, transcendence in the iconography of houses of worship and of the dead.
When the sun is like this, it seems a waste to stay inside any longer than one has to, when there's all this to be seen.