Shadows

Today at work, I was told (by three (3) people, independently) that I'm going to make a great wife someday.  Thanks, guys.  I guess it kind of fits, though.  I'm also sisters with a girl that's my fake sister.  Did that sentence make any sense to you?  Probably not.  But I never accused you of being intelligent.  Sentient, maybe.  But not intelligent.

Then I stop and think, have I ever accused anyone or anything of sentience?  The answer comes in the form of a cloud of smoke right before a camp fire ignites or right after a volcanic eruption.  iPods, iPhones, Shane, iPads, trucks, scooters, MacBooks, Pan's Labyrinth, Mountain Dews, photos, Final Fantasy, paellas, pretzels, Faxanadu, PoKéMoN, iTunes, Bjork.  I just wanted to list of few things for no reason.  And yes, I'm sure I have accused someone or something at some point in my life of sentience, so stop asking!

After all was said and done, I finally made it home.  It's a beautiful town full of beautiful people.  The streets bear no appellation other than a number followed by a direction.  The water is all constructed out of salt which must be filtered before consumption.  A large, white building with 6 pillars stands in the centre of town and acts as a beacon for at least half of its population.  There's a presence, or multiple, of long-time friendships and paths long-treaded upon.  The breezy, salty air swoops through, blowing through my ever-lengthing locks, bringing a permanent smile to my face.  On the pavement, the shadows appear to be growing, as if the light cast by my hopes and dreams is at long last lazily making its way to greet me.