I wrote this collection of musings and stories While I was away in Louisville. The City has become a second home of mine. The Highlands is a artsy neighborhood there, where I have spent many days creating. This is a love letter to this place, to illustrate the creative energy of this haven. Below are my stories and thoughts, some are written in a more disfunctional style, to convey my thoughts more candidly. There is a declaration of freedom, a girl wearing an owl city t-shirt, and the knight who lost his dumpster keys hidden in the words I’ve written.
These are my stories.
-Grace Xxx
–Benevolent Thoughts–
Call me crazy, but whipped cream on an iced latte is odd.
Other benevolent thoughts such as these are on my mind, as I sit in a coffee house yet again. Perhaps this time I’m more aware, more sure of what is going on. Not in a wave of blind bliss where I am swept away. A realization shatters the world around me, in which I find- is mirrors surrounding me.
Can you imagine where I am today? Not perfect, but content. Not together, but in pieces. Somehow in my brokenness I am whole. Fine ribbon ties up the cracked vase that holds my soul.
It’s terrifying, and brilliant. I am myself again.
Benevolent thoughts again, and again, and again…
The warm embrace of a laptop overheating comforts me on this cold evening. I think a song by the Eagles is playing, but I can’t be sure. Reality could very well be false.
Two men share company with glasses of wine, pink; pearly liquid swirling in it’s intoxicating state. They’re discussing computers I think.
An uneasy barrister keeps losing his words in the coffee cups. The barista is wearing an owl city t-shirt, and makes such a good cup of coffee. Her pink ponytail bobbing to and fro above the counter.
The women behind me share high spirits, knitting and Sewing, and crocheting, and creating. Laughing about lovers from another time.
My lavender infused coffee reminds me of the good in this world, and that there are very few pairings better than this.
Back to the benevolent thoughts.
Last January, I was someone else, a shadow of who I was. July reminded me of who I am, breaking me free of something of sort destiny.
This January, I am sober, I am free. I am a person, not a shadow.
And maybe
Just Maybe,
This
Is
How
It’s supposed
To
Be.
Or maybe, it’s just benevolent thoughts.
–Dumpster Keys-
Once upon a time,
In the land of art supplies,
The cap of a lost marker
Found its way under a shelf
Distraught, I looked
For a plan of rescue.
And to my suprise
Came the knight
Holding a wooden stick of a sword
He found the cap, and we put it back
Leaving the marker restored
And only if
To return the favor
We could have helped
The knight find
His dumpster keys,
But alas somethings are never found, but
Are meant to remind us
To not be distraught at what we have lost
But to look forwards at what we have found.
-Twilight-
Rainy Saturdays in the Highlands
A home away from home.
I could get lost in its energy,
It’s haven
For all who create
For those who celebrate everything made.
-And I think to myself, who am I to deny
This creativity bubbling inside
A place where love letters were written
And cries of help were given
A place full of coffee to consume
A place letting me bloom
Into who I am today.
I’m someone new,
Confident in what I do
In the melodies in which I live
Songs written in my tune,
A twilight alined
Between my love and my life.
-The Highlands-
A place for those who make, and those who create.
There is old and new. Old houses on modern streets, old coats on the shoulders of someone new. Stories are engraved in the streets, on the doors. A twilight emerges between what was, and what is now.
Bakeries draw communities to their glorious pull. Hot cider warming hands, and hearts, baked deliciousness in some kind of tart. There is much to take in, and more to give.
The energy of the neighborhood breathes live into creators, inspiration in every corner, every new day that comes. Songs are sung, spoken as poetry. Pictures capture life, and art imitates perfectly. Truth finds its way into creation, and what is made connects us all.
A perfect twilight of old and new, a twilight of finding truth.
“Truth finds its way into creation, and what is made connects us all.”