 | | 29/01/2015 19:01
Sur le blog Amy Nelson
the heart of mountain country
Last night I dreamed of a tiny wooden cabin in the heart of mountain country. In this dream, there were windows cracked open to let the sound of bird chatter into the house. A tiny wooden cabin with a door as bright as yellow sunshine and the sound of dishes clinking and clacking in a kitchen. It was inviting in its own delicate way, not a single window or wooden beam looked groomed, broken pallets sat next to a dusty oak shed, tufted hairgrass and baby's breath were growing tall and mighty just like bean stalks do. It looked like a place I could call my home. The way a sunbeam frolics in my dreams is always hazy and blossomy like a summertime...
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