Since I could remember, I’ve wanted to see craggy mountains and pounding water. I wanted to feel the pine trees grow and swipe the clouds from the sky.
In my mind, I can imagine the most wonderful landscapes. Ones that send my heart galloping, pleading with me to write them into existence.
To stand on an edge, the wind whispering in my ears and kissing my face, closing my eyes gently and basking in the sun as the hills sing to me, is what I dream for.
In my greed, I want to bottle up the beauty of the scenery and gulp it down. And when I am one with the earth and can feel it in my veins,
I want to mold the beauty within me into words for the world to read. The dictionary for writers, poets, artists and dreamers.
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