The name of the town was Bridge
The name of the town was Bridge.
It lied adjacent to the railway station which was quite modern and unobtrusive. To the south of the Station was main road, not very busy, the road itself was almost in a shallow valley and slightly curved with trees not very densely shading it from the afternoon sun. The road was not very wide with slightly elevated pavements on one side and tall well kept 19th century houses on both sides.
To the north of the station was a modern park with trees to the left, those were higher and denser than the ones in the road. This park had some open areas, with benches running on different levels.
On a hill overlooking the park was a modern development that felt very pleasant and fresh, but also exuded a sense of history.
This was the town that I dreamt up in my sleep and woke up yearning to come back to it in future dreams.
I could never really figure out why this place felt so much at home and welcoming yet new and exciting at the same time. I am worried that every day that passes, obscures the actual emotion and it is only the not very important details that prevail. How do I capture something so complex and intangible? Breaking it down into bits already diminishes the power of the experience. And I do not want the feeling to be gone entirely. There must be a way back to that moment in time that never happened.
I woke up from that dream feeling pure bliss and relaxation knowing that I finally found place I could call home.
And that place never existed.
It lied adjacent to the railway station which was quite modern and unobtrusive. To the south of the Station was main road, not very busy, the road itself was almost in a shallow valley and slightly curved with trees not very densely shading it from the afternoon sun. The road was not very wide with slightly elevated pavements on one side and tall well kept 19th century houses on both sides.
To the north of the station was a modern park with trees to the left, those were higher and denser than the ones in the road. This park had some open areas, with benches running on different levels.
On a hill overlooking the park was a modern development that felt very pleasant and fresh, but also exuded a sense of history.
This was the town that I dreamt up in my sleep and woke up yearning to come back to it in future dreams.
I could never really figure out why this place felt so much at home and welcoming yet new and exciting at the same time. I am worried that every day that passes, obscures the actual emotion and it is only the not very important details that prevail. How do I capture something so complex and intangible? Breaking it down into bits already diminishes the power of the experience. And I do not want the feeling to be gone entirely. There must be a way back to that moment in time that never happened.
I woke up from that dream feeling pure bliss and relaxation knowing that I finally found place I could call home.
And that place never existed.
posted by Mike at 1:04 AM
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