With spring around the corner, I find myself longing for space.  I wish I had a backyard garden to grow big ripe tomatoes, fragrant daffodils, and fresh zucchini.  A place to sit and savor a refreshing drink while I collect my thoughts would be nice.  I'd love some fresh air -- air that smells like air and not any other chemical or human byproduct.  I'm forgetting what it feels like to go barefoot all day long, and how silence really sounds.  I'm losing my sense of nature, as it is slowly replaced with a sense of direction in this big city life. 

I hear New Yorkers describe the Big Apple as the best place on Earth.  I'd like to think that I've managed to avoid catching the Manhattan disease.  I still believe there is nothing better than a quiet seat somewhere in the middle of green, where you can't hear a car horn for miles, and the only lights on at night are the stars.


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