About a Bird

I Tell Stories

littleworries:

small eye smokebird

Skies

If you have been following me for a length of time you’ve probably picked up that I’m restless. I’ve got a knack for staying in one place no longer than a few seasons.
This aspect of character has many people asking me:
“Are you not happy where you are?”

Well, that’s not really the right question. I make a point to be happy wherever I am. No matter where you are, sometimes life will suck. That’s just the truth of it. But life will always carry happiness for those who look for it. However, all that said. I’ll admit that I do get a certain amount of joy from changing skies.

But the older I get, the more I’m realizing that there are some beautiful gifts of life that only come to those who stay around long enough for them to bloom. I’m realizing that I don’t know what it feels like to be, well, fully rooted.
Sure there are have been places I have tethered myself to. Places I will constantly be pulled to, will love, no matter where I am. But I’ve never landed somewhere without the intention of leaving later.

Maybe it’s time to change that.
Maybe.

A Novel by Me

Did I just fold my laundry or did I actually put it away?
Oh I just folded it.
Ah, Me!

The End

A good story is one that leaves the listener with a new favorite memory. Even though the memory is of something they never experienced.

“Thus it was that three students made their slightly erratic way back to the University. See them as they go, weaving only slightly. It is quiet, and when the belling tower strikes the late hour, it doesn’t break the silence so much as it underpins it. The crickets, too, respect the silence. Their calls are like careful stitches in its fabric, almost too small to be seen.”
-Rothfuss

1yen:

untitled // by me

Commute

I’m sitting in a train station right now. Three minutes until I depart. I’m on my way to work, answering innumerable calls for the government that contracted my employer.
Shuffling now, the train is not too full, enough space to keep a seat between me and the next passenger. It’s 18 minutes and 15 seconds to my stop. This leaves me time to think, read, or listen, depending on what catches my fancy. I do this five days a week.
But I won’t do this forever. Of course not. For now, I build the foundation towards the dream I pull out of my pocket whenever I get discouraged. I have my own story.
We are The Collection. I am a piece.

decepticun:

k | by Kevin Tadge
matialonsorphoto:

don’t come closer or I’ll have to go
by matialonsor
ponderation:

Snow by Shannon O’Grady