The sound of white

This place needs the rain, it needs to be washed away of its sins, of its cynical sense of humor, of its pretence. This place needs the rain and rain it receives. Wind, rain and apparently snow in Malibu? Could it be true….

The rain makes me want to be bundled under warm blankets by my fire and indulge myself in a provocative romance novel that tells the story of other peoples secret lives, naughty and wild. This rain makes me want to create a fantasy world that I could live in for a couple of hours-a world that only I dictate, whereby I am the complete goddess and ruler. I want my imagination to run wild, I want to run away to that place where all of my fantasies, dreams and desires are my reality….if even for a few hours.

While I’m there, I might float in a bubble, fly in a hot air balloon, climb a mountain, jump off a cliff into soft bouncy clouds, dance in a field of yellow daisies, be the captain of a pirate ship, fly to the moon, sip fine nectar from a wild flower, ride a white horse bare back and drown in the feathers and down of my cloud.

Sometimes, if I listen to the sound of white, I can hear what’s inside my soul and if I lay still long enough, I like what I hear, the howling wind, the pouring rain and an old man snoring somewhere. But mostly I love the sound of my imagination where I play make believe and life’s better for a moment.