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On the wraparound porch of an antique farmhouse, you finish lacing up your shoes and slowly sit back

in a handmade rocking chair. It creaks softly against the scuffed wooden floorboards as you sway

back to fourth. It's easy to fall into the rhythm of the rocking as your knees slowly flex

and then relax. You find your breath begins to align with the movement of the chair,

breathing in as it sways backwards and exhaling as you return to centre.

It's a soothing rhythm. You can imagine sitting here all day, watching the light shift against

the farmhouse walls as the sun traces its path across the sky. Perhaps you will, another day.

You carefully stand up from the rocking chair, placing one hand on the back to slow its movement

and you bend down, pick up your small pack of belongings and set out on the dirt path leading away from the front of the house.

The warmth of the mid-morning sun is a welcome sensation on your skin.

You feel the slightest bricol of heat against your hair follicles and it sends a familiar tingle

up your spine. Lime green and powder blue dragonflies flutter by buzzing gently as they dance

in and out of the grass on either side of the path. In the air you detect a sweet, clean aroma

perfumed with the unmistakable tongue of orange blossoms.

You reach out and run your fingertips through the waste high grass around you.

The blades bend gently only to spring back upright after your hand passes.

You hear the soft rustling of their movement against your skin.

...