The Penal Colony

The days are working slowly on this penal colony, and I earn my time to carry out anything else I love doing when I feel it. Within the duration in-between, in between my spontaneous and lazy actions, I hear to the multitude of birds singing, the gentle sea rising no longer a long way-off, the squirrel's squeaky rhythm, and I revel within the glimpse of the complete greenery that surrounds me: palm bushes, banana bushes, the large mangoes, the bougainvillea , and the flowering hibiscus, plus the mountainous banyan that covers and protects my home and soul from the scorching sun. They saturate my neighborhood with oxygen and enjoyment.

The rhythm of lifestyles is as slack as my breath, each and each throughout the day and at night, when the Queen of the Night, who now sleeps, opens its plant life, saturating the air with the intoxicating scent of jasmine. I look the sun rising a long way beyond the large bushes fencing my property, the sky brightening, and the crows drawing come my balcony hopping to salvage about a bites of my breakfast. Every morning the connected; they request at me croaking, inciting, and begging. No longer as of late, no longer now, I've already eaten all of it, and the crumbles belong to the ants now.

After a really lengthy time, I write again in pen on the notebook, love many years ago. The rate and the creepy sound of the ink that fixes on the paper are synchronous with the inch of my thought, my temper of the moment and the lush nature that surrounds me. I breathe deeply and glimpse as much as the sky, and down to the earth, and within the center to the bushes that join the dimensions. Sounds, early morning smells, 200-diploma imaginative and prescient, the model of breakfast in my mouth, and the current air on my skin saturate my senses and complete the gift.

Even the thoughts wants its segment and wonders if here’s a penal colony or a prize holiday I will or cancel in a technique that I also carry out no longer know or bear in mind. It's as much as me to insist. Meanwhile, a cow bellows out of glimpse, and my ears are in divine bliss. If I knew who to inquire of, I could perchance perchance perchance make a selection to go for a lifestyles-sentence and resolve-down here, in no man's land, where the passing time is observing me observing and resting within the hands of an never-ending number of setting and rising suns .

With all my love,

Gay Valentine's Day.


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