Sitting outside in Wellington for the afternoon is a bit of a rare occurrence. It’s known as Windy Wellington for good reason.
I met up with an old friend for a bit of lunch and then to a reasonably new craft beer bar. Over the summer they have taken over a portion of a local park for outdoor seating—complete with bean bag, picnic rugs and sunscreen provided. It was a nice day for hanging out with some nice beer and nice company. We were only going for one or two drinks but stayed the whole afternoon until the sun went behind the neighbouring buildings and the air started to chill.
Looking out the window today at the cloud and gales it’s quite a difference from that calm summery day a few weeks ago.
It is often in the small and simple things where we find the answer to who we are :)
Home is where the heart is!
Autumn breeze clearing the mind
To live is not this!
He was happy he'd decided to go
I'm stuck here in a society that doesn't let me be where I need to be. Held back by the people who birthed me, by the people who learned me, by the people who will bury me when I have lived my shitty, cynical life. I have three options, One which would bring joy to me that I have not seen in a long time, one which would give me the opportunity for me to be possibly the happiest ever happy in the future, and one which would break me apart. Most likely I will have to choose the latter. The one that will break me. The society that we have created will break me, just like it has broken you without you even knowing. We sit behind our computers, reading other peoples stories because we have none to tell. I am not free,if I go out and find a drink, I get arrested. If I go to the orchard nearby, I get arrested. If I try and build a house on some land that I think looks suitable to raise my family in, I get arrested. Is this how life is meant to be? Is this how we started? Is this how we will end? This may not make complete sense, but that's because it's come right from my heart. I hate western society.
Good luck living in a world like this. I'm off to Alaska.
The farmer's beads
The weight of a memory