Sebastian A Mendoza-Gomez
Stories (2/0)
Purity
Sitting in front of an orchid, a constellation of flowers, bushes, and a couple of trees that sit on the far left and right extremities, centering the focus, I feel pure. Pure of the stress, responsability, and of myself. I feel as if I'm lost in a meditative abyss, sinking into my conscience. I can feel the wind brush my loose hair. I can feel it slither through my arms and legs, run up my back, and caress my feet. It seeps between the crevices of my teeth as I breath in. I look up at the sky on this grey, gloomy day. At a close inspection one can see the sun's efforts to penetrate the heavy clouds that blind its vision. But the clouds are unwavery. A sea of mist runs through the hill side. The gut of its mass sits in the valleys, dispersed. I look to the north, where the hills form the horizon, where the clouds begin to funnel right at the center, forming a vignette-like effect. A heavy contrast between what is green and what is gray. What’s colors are full of life, and what’s colors are depressive.
By Sebastian A Mendoza-Gomez4 years ago in Motivation