I know dreams are for dreamers and dreamers often lie.
I had a dream last night in which I am drying flowers in an old house by the seaside and I sunk my heart to the bottom of the sea because love grows on the moon and the moon always changes.
I have a feeling in me all the time that tells me to run away.
I dream of seashores and treehouses or a cottage where I would grow my own vegetables and the fragrance of lavender would fill the air.
then I think, if I had got there, I would still get the urge to be somewhere else, a different view from the window, different people to talk to.
some are nomads and we carry this feeling, no matter how far we go.
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