I can't recall the last time I posted. I may have been writing about liars and my dislike of people that lie.
There's been a lot less of that lately, which is awesome.
I've been in a long state of quietness. Recluse. Writing, or more so adapting a novel I had written a few years back into a script. I'm savouring every bite of written word.
Last Sunday the weather was at its peak in fabulousness. I was at the beach with a friend, the place was crammed, boardwalk crawling with people from all walks. And as every pore on my body breathed in the dewy melding of sun, and as Goldilocks would put it "just right" temperature, I was overcome with a sense of "we're so lucky" gratitude for what we have.
Freedom.
There wasn't a cry to be heard, unless it was from laughter or a flubbed miss of a volleyball. There was no fear, panic, or chaos of a thousand legs fleeing harm. It was perfect. It reminded me of when I was last in NYC. The Park, can't remember the name, where hundreds gathered to watch a film. From what appeared, not a doubt in personal safety. Not a brow arched in anxiety. Just life as we should know it. Safe and beautiful.
My lens isn't so much a tangible one. It's not about luxury homes, designer wardrobe, or prized wheels. For me it's a condition. That people have freedom of choice, freedom of hope, freedom of life. Even when I'm travelling early in the morning, seeing people having breakfast with their family, a companion or by themselves. I'm thankful. We can do it. It's just there, and there's never a second thought.
Across the pond life is different for many, where freedom becomes a hostile word. Will it One Day strike us? Slither across oceans, ponds and lakes - mask itself in something or someone else and take? It takes just one rotten apple to spoil the basket. I guess we just have to stay awake, not sleep, not follow, not stay mute, not accept.
I hope we never lose it.
