Page 113 - NOMADS_NO5

108Places are where we run to inside our minds when the world is cold; they’re different for Everyone has their memory safe haven, and mine happens to be that Bakery workers are a family living out on the Island life is flowered smiles and melancholy cracks and falling in love with the Sun hides behind darkness and clouds as we gaze from the rooftop, wishing we could see more Stars fill our eyes and we learn this place isactually a Feeling drives us, moves us, alters what we see as right and wrong, decides who we depend On a fuzzy day in July, I follow him out to chase the Storm rages on; we can hear the thunder Crack of yellow light cuts across the sky with violent snaps; we sit in the cool sand as dusty particles cling nervously to our Legs that push metal pedals on bike rides by the Sea shines like diamonds as popping yellow rays bounce along the Beach days are white paste stuck on skin and oversized sunglasses that seem strange to Some days are bamboo rods on bayside floors; others are bare feet dangling off wooden boardwalks,curling as the sun goes Down the street from the bakery, we siton dusty cushions, lighting the house with a million tiny, whisperingFlames propel our sky lanterns, paper planes lighting the night sky and ..............