Home

Listening to country music takes me back to where the songs believe they were born. It takes me to long straight roads in west texas, to honky tonks I've never been to, to freedom nobody's ever known, but that has been imagined and desired so much that it is almost the same as real.

I went to Austin this weekend. I went back to a place that I love. And then I came back again, to the place where I grew up and dreamed of leaving and never coming back.

"Home is made for comin' from
for dreams of going to
which with any luck will never come true"
-----

"Home is where the heart is."

Then my home is in many places.

Reconciliation

Strangely I feel very happy right now.
Nothing is different. Not really. I guess my brain just decided to dump some seratonin on me. Or Allah. Or a witch. Or a jinn. Or a devil.

I heard this poem on the radio this morning. Thank you NPR. :)

Reconciliation
by Walt Whitman

WORD over all, beautiful as the sky!
Beautiful that war, and all its deeds of carnage, must in time be utterly lost;
That the hands of the sisters Death and Night, incessantly softly wash again, and ever again, this soil’d world:
... For my enemy is dead—a man divine as myself is dead;
I look where he lies, white-faced and still, in the coffin—I draw near;
I bend down, and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the coffin.