as i sit here in a dilapidated chair from the 70's that is a very mustard-y color of yellow, with approximately 10 minutes to spare before leaving for dinner at the grandparents' house, i can't help but wish i was somewhere else, someone else, in a different time (period or zone).
the last few days have been full of wanderlust for me. i have an unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach that just won't go away. i read a book and wish that i was in the book--same thing with movies...namely westerns and fantasies (it never really struck me to wish to be in a biography or anything like that). i want to go somewhere where no one knows my name or what i'm supposed to be like. i want to sip coffee at a street cafe in Paris, reading a book of outdated poetry or maybe something by Hemingway. i want to go to Africa and come back with braids in my hair, a tan, and pictures and memories to last a lifetime--ones that will always be drawing me back to that place. i want to be someone else...even if just for a little while...to forget my ties and responsibilities and what's expected of me. i want to just be. just once.
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