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borzoi
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      I lay my head back in the chair and watched the soft white vapor gently massage the air, ease a feathery body across the ground, and embrace every twig on every tree. At this hour of the day the low cloud was a comforting sheet on a lovers’ bed, not the shroud of eerie foreboding it could be some nights. A few shafts of yellow light occasionally made their way through, only to be nudged aside by another white caress.
The clock chimed the hour. Then I heard the stable clock do the same. I would have to ask about any tinker’s wagon that might come through to take me to Inverness. And I would have to do it in secret; soon the Campbells would descend upon me, demanding betrothal, and marriage.
But then sitting in Lochend Castle, amidst beauty and safety, the dangers and perils of an unknown road, another attempt to go home, had me heavy and leaden. My mind may have worked overtime plotting and scheming, feeling euphoric and hopeful, but I found my body uncooperative. Perhaps I was growing weary of secrets. 
A Far Far Land ~ Castle View

  That is the problem when people die. We go on in Time; they do not. And in the hours and years as we mark the rising and setting of the sun, building hour upon hour of other things - incidents, experiences, the voices and relationships of other people- these wage war with the memories of those who are no longer. It is a war which lasts until we surrender, or are at least resigned; we cannot hold on to them perfectly. And we relegate the flashes of scenes to a certain shelf in our hearts.

      So, on that trip, as the car sped to the Florida coast, I aimed the air-conditioning vent toward me, and watched the world go by. The summer sun was warm on the window. Pop tunes played on the radio and daylight shot between the tree trunks like a coded message. Hours later, when I tired of counting the the tops of wooden fence posts, tired of blinking for every horse and cow, I put my mind to fantastical dreams. I longed for a realm; a land, far away, where nothing bad ever happened, and nature was pure, where wondrous adventures were at every turn, and mermaids were real.    A Far Far Land
excerpts
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