make a point of smelling the air reeeeal good every morning - almost tastes like the mountains. like apple pie so crisp it cuts you open, spills you out in the leaves. leaves go play in them. Make your mountains if you need to be dwarfed some times it's worth accepting lightly the way the sunshine tips its hat and colors you flat on your back. These scenes are meant to be stared at by awestruck, nameless people.
By Night**
the cold might surprise you , he's an old friend who missed you dearly. in a good, warm, windswept way be prepared to lose your favorite socks, and part of your concept of self, and find laced-up fingers that more than make up for it don't shut the blinds always bring a blanket and openness, writhing and bursting curiosity ready to trap the last flash of storm before morning-time will slow and you will become raw in the moonlight. Make music out of the air by the fire, there's so much to love.