Abstract Essays

September is the month of dreams that are so vivid I don’t want to come out of them. A warm embrace from which I still felt warm upon waking. A road trip over dark bridges, only to reach an entrance of psychedelic wildflowers in Virginia. Flying with a purple long-haired dog-bird who taught me to fly, then becoming a bird myself with wings, flying over Peruvian ruins—only to find, unbelievably, I didn’t have wings upon waking.

September is the month of scents that linger in the air, setting ablaze flames of inspiration to my mind. A candle warming the atmosphere of my dark room at night. Smoky incense sifting out the window and into the morning air. Artificially-fragranced lotions that stay glued to my arms all day. Wild alfalfa on evening walks up to the park. The delicious aroma of coffee in a warm coffee shop. The first fallen snow of the autumn season on the cold downtown streets.

September is the month of mysteries that introduce profound ideas. Retelling stories of local murders that happened years ago on walks through old, haunted neighborhoods in the rain. Losing myself in a room with magical, pious paintings on each wall. Exploring thrift shops filled with items that have thousands of pasts with friends obtained solely by synchronicity. Exploring the theory of reincarnation, and which people of the present might have been in mine— and which people of the past I might have been.

September is the month to appreciate creamy sunsets with glowing, bright orange clouds. To explore the city limits by bicycle, discovering crystal clear ponds reflecting bushy trees, and other places that you hadn’t known existed before. It is the month to deeply inhale every breath of fresh air, no matter what color the sky appears to be.


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