Pirata's Stories

pirata:

My bags were heavy but my spirit was not.  My mind was bustling with all the studying I’ve been doing and all the planning my day dreams take me to.  It was crisp and cold, but my scarf was wrapped up real snug, my breath keeping it warm against my cheeks.  My DMs crunched the frozen snow beneath my tread and I trudged through it, remembering how daily this activity was as a child.  I passed others on the sidewalk; they slipped and slid through it.  I kept my pace and took the paths less traveled upon so as to feed my boots with that crunch and stomp they live for.  The sun was shining - a rarity for one accustomed to the winters of Buffalo and Ontario.  I was walking with this song playing in my ears and I turned onto a street particularly unkempt at about the 4th minute into this song.  The sun was in my eyes and it reflected off the snow around me in such a way as to blast anything else in radiance and purity and madness.  One might become angered at such a moment but it felt good.  The piano played its steady rhythm and my feet continued in their steady stomp and everything felt okay.  It was that moment when I heard a whisper through the crisp winds and it said “it is going to be all right.” 

Beach House - real love