It’s Already Tomorrow But I Have To…

It’s difficult to describe a day when it arcs from the pink light of pre-dawn reflecting across quilt clouds along the Black Mountains, to a post-gallery opening party in BigCity, NC with art hipsters and good friends gathered round an Ingles birthday cake. It is furthermore difficult when the arc touches base again, into the wee hours of tomorrow, already setting stone for the next day’s events.

But really it boils down to this: We are young and we live in the mountains. It is often quiet and lonely and most of the time, we prefer it this way. There are romantic moments on a daily basis and they belong to each his/her own. Secretly, we worry about whether or not this lifestyle is only making us further set in our ways, less eligible bachelors and bachelor-esses (?), destined to be rickety and worn in turn the years into decades of single-living. But we also hold onto a thread of hope, one that may eventually connect up with another kindred spirit in these mountains, perhaps someone to help us get through the winter doldrums by being that warm body under the covers with us, or a close friend turned lover then to true love to make that sweet wedding day arrive before we know it.

But mostly, each of us is hungry for the lyrical moment. That glimpse into time and space where really, everything else disappears but a gut feeling that something must be born from this experience. It is our daily bread.

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