Mark's Pages

March 26, 2010:

Green hills, warm light of sunset, polarized shades.

It's beautiful, but it's not home.

The light is wrong, lacking vibrance, lacking that liquid sense of life, a living thing that immerses you, that loves you and warms you from inside. It's a cold place, even in summer, even when the temperature is 90 degrees. There's no amount of motion that makes you feel welcome. There's only ever exile.