2am. Somehow ended up discussing art with D.H. I realized I dislike talking to people about art. it's like talking about a love affair where you care too much about the other side but you don't know whether your friends and family will like him and where it's all heading to.
it's like over-exposing myself, leaving me hollow afterward. like letting out too much not knowing how they're received - or rather without receiving enough to fill up the chunk of me I'd just given out. it's a strange feeling.
5pm. the lounge is beautiful with glass overhead so you can see the sky. The train has two storeys. it's interesting seeing the world from up so high.
Passing through farm land - corn fields, vegetables and various plants I can't identify, herds of cows, barns, tractors. bare fields harvested last week, ripe gold under the sun. rows of trees turning green blurs. a house with white fences and a man in shorts walks across the lawn. unaware of being watched. and recorded.
railroads that curve off to unknown distance.
Under a green canopy we proceed.
Hay barrels roll the earth yellow, leaving trails of dried grasses on bare golden fields.
and we enter the green canopy again, letting the leaves brush the windows, watching butterflies flirt, swirling round and round each other.
We come out on grasses dyed orange dotted with purple blooms. A broken brick house in the distance, its roof curving in, a sad sight in the city but strangely poetic in this overgrown field.
People walking back and forth pushing onto my chair. I look at my pens and paper scattered on the couch.
Martinsburg Station, West Virginia is composed of several abandoned brick buildings. They harmonize a sad song, repeating Why? there was once a time splendid, filled with people and sound. they kept the roof above the walls and the walls straight above the ground. now there's only air. and the meadow creeping in.
my hair's limp on my shoulders and the bags beneath my eyes deepen. Exhaustion. I am mildly lonely but plenty relieved. Being with people of a different kind is interesting but exhausting. I'm grateful plenty that people invited me into their privates space however.
A few words for D.C.
D.C. has big roads, big buildings, plenty of parks and museums. I didn't like downtown D.C. when I visited 2 summers ago and I didn't like it when we got off the subway at the Smithsonian station. Everything was so clean and grand, and organized. Everything screams "authority" not comfort. But the museums are all free! This is the place for those seeking knowledge! though perhaps not so much for those seeking to create.
I want to hug a hay barrel and roll.
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