WATCH WHERE YOU POINT YOUR HEAD

The other night I saw a fox sitting completely still in the middle of the road. Sodium streetlight spilled through tree branches and caused a nervous system to dance across the tarmac. There was a full moon above. A really really full moon. Fuck, that moon was full. Earlier, at dusk, I watched the city from a hilltop as it turned into a web of stars. The wind was just about cold enough to remind you that there is such a thing as cold and to remind you that you are warm.

The next day I woke up and so had the world, ahead of me. Birds were sending beautiful code. Clouds clumped and swirled and sent smoke signals beyond human ken. The burning ball of the sun sometimes showed itself but mainly hid. And the sea too, different to the day before or even the minute before or the second. Ever changing and never the same. It made the soaking sound of a stadium roar. Foamy fractals dissolved on its glistening shore.

And back inland, the flowers are coming. All different colors. All different sizes and shapes and permutations of those sizes and shapes and permutations of those again, an endless variety, endlessly. And if we're miserable it's because our heads are pointed at the wrong place. Not everything is a given but these things are guaranteed. These things are free. So much to see. Seriously, you'd never catch up. How could you ever leave?
Watch where you point your head. Please.