Cuppa Joe, this morning specifically, gives the effects of being perhaps THE most delicious cuppa joe I've ever experienced. The aroma strong and elegant, taste so smooth and silky. Yes, silky. Perhaps that's from the addition of a touch of Bailey's.
A gloriously moody Saturday morning sunrise, I greeted. My accompaniment, Armenian Duduk music. Long forgotton foot paths meeting up with etherial sounds just downriver of the headwaters of a swollen, raging river suddenly abated by the mere presence of large, voluptiously-round boulders standing at attention just on the horizon of the raging waters. Rays of sunshine streamming over a treeline burst into view, creating an excellent head-trip this morning, indeed. Suddenly all is calm. Behold the cacophany of silence.
Silence, and the Duduk... So much life has walked this path- both familiar and strange. Stories of caravans settle into the dust, dormant until stirred. Zephyrs stirring up stories, always. Tumbleweeds of narratives seeking an audience set out. Intentions of an ampitheater, an orator, a closure or continuation. Desperately searching for a sequel. Roll on tumbleweed.
Attaching themselves to brambles, some tales deviate from their destiny, temporarily. Preferring instead to stay a fortnight or two, divulging their secrets to those fortunate enough to be 'on the path' at the right time and place and in a contemporaneous dimension.
Imagine being a traveler on such a journey. The path, the caravansarai, the travelers you come into contact with, the stars, the sounds, the spices, the stories that are the pulse, streaming energy to all those who cross the path.
What is in the coffee, right? :)
Okay, I'm going for a run now. Storytime; my path, in my current dimension, follows the Bosphorus. And since I'm feeling my superpowers full force this morning, I'll put in a request with the entities upstairs for snowfall this week...