Swing

Here, in the midle of the trees and leaves... no sounds but the wind. Watching the moviments of nature is soothing. And also intriging. Something about the rithym of the breeze on the trees that catches the eye. No, not the eye, but the mind. It's mystirious... the branches come forward and backwards. Limited moves, and yet it catches the mind in such a way to not let go.

Just like the swing. The wind on the hair, arms and body. Forward and backwards. Exactly as the tall trees. When it's the highest one can reach, time stops for just a tiny second. It freezes and life is so easy, peaceful. Nothing is wrong, everything is perfect. Happiness. Love. However, gravity (oh, gravity!) is always here. And though it may seem time stands still, it simply does not and must continue its course. So it does. The swing comes down along with the world of dreams and fantasies. The feeling of the journey down is quite the same as up. But that's just physical, not emotional. Back to Earth, close to the land. Why does everything feel better in the air? All the fears come again. The cold, gray and sad reality, in which things aren't all possible. A life with limits... like the moviments of the swing.