California, My Muse!
I think often about her. When I do, I feel fond and optimistic. In these moments, my passion precedes reason, inspiring the thought of my inevitable reunion. I will once again bathe in the glow of the yellow sun that sprinkles itself over the rolling hills. The folded sheets of green that roll and flatten themselves out ever so slightly with every setting sun. For my darling California, I would never tire.
I was not tired when I napped in the dim glow of the swollen grey skies. I dreamed to the hum of the ocean and the voices that populated it. Animal noises, they were. What a divine feeling to be a man among nature. Nature dwells where I am now, but it feels artificial. Nature has been planted with purpose for aesthetic pleasure (involuntary impostors, they are.) This is quite alright for now, for I know now will pass, and I will see California again.
Is there such thing as “California dreaming?” Is this a catchphrase that exists only in the realm of pop music, or is this what I am feeling now? I think often about California. I really do.