Some days you just want to fall in, to wade among your inner peace. You want to retract from the rush of the world, and to go to a place where you find your balance. I dream of the coast, the waltz of adventure on my own, to find a soothing comfort.

There are times when the ground is damp, and the skies glow of early morning blues, and I step outside my Corvallis apartment. I dream of docile coastal towns, the single roads that stem through hearts of cities and branch off to subdued communities. And I breath the salted air, and I hear its whispers. It passes through my nose and accelerates my senses, and then suddenly everything feels alright.

It’s a little sad, the euphoria we may feel, from graceful constructions in our imagination, and of the peaceful and wholesome dreams we seek. It’s like an escape, a disconnect from the strain on our shoulders and the turmoil in our minds. Irresolute may seem our intentions, yet we dwell on such dreams to find strength. We can say we know world peace, and that it’s in our hearts and what makes our personal world so complete.

So I am here, amongst an array of others’ lives. They carry on their admissible conversations, and I look around and I write. I write of the world around us, the cars and people that pass by, the wardrobes people choose, the lifestyles I read and believe people have. Their mindsets, their destinations — so dynamically different than one another, and so curious is my mind. I dwell from lucid dream to lucid dream, waiting for that whisper of ocean wind to become something real.