i wish i weren't sitting at my kitchen table. i think that's clear.

they have sunflowers here.

not real sunflowers, i know. but they have the good ones. the yellow petals with the brown center? you know.

sunflowers.

i love those kinds.

i wish we had some real ones. bigger. ones with lots of seeds that will fall come september. but we don't. because those only grow in fields under the constant sunshine. i wish i had a tuscan sunshine and a field to grow my sunflowers.

the ones with the seeds.

i wish i had a vineyard. a vineyard to sell all types of wine that i wouldn't drink. a vineyard that resembled stripes of thread on a quilt, weaving their way along a fraying edge in clean lines. i wish i could just walk. smell european air that made its debut long before the soil that i'm typing from.

i want big sunflowers and rows of grapes.

to take my bike and run it through the dirt, trying to keep my breath inside of me, but failing to do so. i wish i could ride my bike through florence, the south of france, and tuscany. pulling my hair up into a tight pony tail. you know what i mean. when you pull your hair up. because then it's not in your way. you feel like nothing is in your way now, because you can't see a single whisp of your very own hair. it's pulled up. and you feel like you could ride until the sun came back up again, or went down for good.

a beige skirt and white shoes. no makeup or voices. because they take away from the sepia toned sky. well not really. it's blue. the sky is blue. but you feel like you're in a photograph taken of someone who actually lives this life. so voices and face paint would surely ruin the sky's tint.
obviously.

to be alone in verona.

with the absence of voices, blush, and free falling hair.
laughing at the dappled sunlight on your clean face, and playing in a field of grapes.
they have sunflowers there.

the big ones. ones with seeds.