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Jan. 24th, 2016 06:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
melesOnly a few sheer white veils accents the sky to keep it from being a whole dome of the clearest blue. The sun has started its slow travel from the zenith towards the distant horizon, but it still remains high and bright and warm, bathing everything in light. The slightest of breezes stirs the air to make it move in a soft, warm caress. It carries with it the scent of wildflowers and herbs, of grass and dry soil.
The dusty dirt path underneath your bare feet is an old one, made wider over the course of many years, by countless steps and by the wheels of bikes and carts, and later cars. It winds in slow, lazy curves across the fields, where tall grass sways slowly in the summer breeze. Upwards now, in a slight incline up to the top of a small hill, where an old house stands in the company and shade of a few old oaks. It is a house that shows its years, with signs of disrepair. Once painted in the palest shade of rosy pink, the paint now peels to show old grey wood underneath.
But this is a house that someone calls home, and alongside the disrepair is also repair. The steps of the front porch have been replaced recently, just like the frames of the wide-open windows, where lacy white curtains are billowing out in the breeze.
The front door is as wide open as the windows, so inviting that it almost seem to beckon you to step inside. You do so, leaving the shade of the oaks for that inside the house. Bare floorboards that has been worn smooth by generations of feet creak under yours when you step in. Things seem less worn in here, but no less old. Cared for and loved, any harsh edges worn away by time. A pleasant scent comes drifting down the hall, coming from what must be the kitchen. Coconut and coriander. Citrus and ginger.
As you walk down the hall you glance through open doors as you pass them by. It's a bit of a mess, with cardboard boxes here and there, some opened and half unpacked. As if someone is in the process of moving in. But even so you can see where there will be a living room, with a couch and plush chairs. Through another door you see mannequins, a sewing machine and bales of fabric. It is a tailor that lives here?
As you enter the kitchen you find a pot of fragrant soup standing on the now cold stove. A clean bowl and spoon sits next to it. The disorganisation of the rest of the house can be seen here too, but even so the kitchen is clean, with no dirty dishes in the sink and every countertop wiped clean.
There is a door there leading outside to the back of the house. Like every other door you have seen it stands wide open, and through it you can see more open fields under the clear blue sky. And just briefly, you see a glimpse of honey blonde hair and golden tanned skin, and a sweep of the white lace of a dress. You hear voices from out there, of men and women both, the relaxed voices of people who are enjoying each other's company. You feel drawn by them and step outside.
As you do, you are momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight. But when your eyes adjust, you find a young woman standing there. She is the one you caught a glimpse of through the door; long honey blonde hair falling loosely down her back in soft waves, and the white lace of her summer dress bringing out her tanned skin. She smiles at you, her warm brown eyes crinkling up as she does. "Welcome. What kept you?"
The dusty dirt path underneath your bare feet is an old one, made wider over the course of many years, by countless steps and by the wheels of bikes and carts, and later cars. It winds in slow, lazy curves across the fields, where tall grass sways slowly in the summer breeze. Upwards now, in a slight incline up to the top of a small hill, where an old house stands in the company and shade of a few old oaks. It is a house that shows its years, with signs of disrepair. Once painted in the palest shade of rosy pink, the paint now peels to show old grey wood underneath.
But this is a house that someone calls home, and alongside the disrepair is also repair. The steps of the front porch have been replaced recently, just like the frames of the wide-open windows, where lacy white curtains are billowing out in the breeze.
The front door is as wide open as the windows, so inviting that it almost seem to beckon you to step inside. You do so, leaving the shade of the oaks for that inside the house. Bare floorboards that has been worn smooth by generations of feet creak under yours when you step in. Things seem less worn in here, but no less old. Cared for and loved, any harsh edges worn away by time. A pleasant scent comes drifting down the hall, coming from what must be the kitchen. Coconut and coriander. Citrus and ginger.
As you walk down the hall you glance through open doors as you pass them by. It's a bit of a mess, with cardboard boxes here and there, some opened and half unpacked. As if someone is in the process of moving in. But even so you can see where there will be a living room, with a couch and plush chairs. Through another door you see mannequins, a sewing machine and bales of fabric. It is a tailor that lives here?
As you enter the kitchen you find a pot of fragrant soup standing on the now cold stove. A clean bowl and spoon sits next to it. The disorganisation of the rest of the house can be seen here too, but even so the kitchen is clean, with no dirty dishes in the sink and every countertop wiped clean.
There is a door there leading outside to the back of the house. Like every other door you have seen it stands wide open, and through it you can see more open fields under the clear blue sky. And just briefly, you see a glimpse of honey blonde hair and golden tanned skin, and a sweep of the white lace of a dress. You hear voices from out there, of men and women both, the relaxed voices of people who are enjoying each other's company. You feel drawn by them and step outside.
As you do, you are momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight. But when your eyes adjust, you find a young woman standing there. She is the one you caught a glimpse of through the door; long honey blonde hair falling loosely down her back in soft waves, and the white lace of her summer dress bringing out her tanned skin. She smiles at you, her warm brown eyes crinkling up as she does. "Welcome. What kept you?"
