Changing the Wallpaper

not a been-to place ...
digital

Here is where you say it is.

Drawn to,

I plunge in.

Home.

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Was getting a bit tired of the summer scene from Tuscany--every day, all that sun, all those brilliant yellow flowers.  I can be there just by imagining.  Don't need a picture.  Sometimes it's nice to change the mental room around.   Tuscany had me walking barefoot in a vineyard or sitting on a hillside basking in the warmth.  But I can only take so much of summer, real or imagined. I start looking for those winds.

It's brutally cold outside. I don't have to imagine winter.  All I have to do is look outside my window.  

I miss swimming, though. I miss mountains and faraway, interesting skies. I wanted something that went farther than inviting pleasurable oblivion--some scene that called out to that part of me that houses more than just small remembered pleasures or wishful journeys--to that thing that's always there, at the core, that only rarely surfaces, that gets lost in the same 'ol, same 'ol.  This scene takes me there. Instantly.

It's not just the whispering silence, or the sky, or the water, or the shadows on snow, or even their combination.  It's what I feel when I'm in that brought-out place--like it knows me.  I have never been there--the place depicted here--and yet I know it.  It's not real, but more real somehow than the scene outside my window.  Why is that?

Funny thing--that big white round spot that looks like the sun (or full moon, out of place) descending absurdly low and fast-approaching, is not in the original wallpaper design. It appeared, mysteriously, when I took the photograph--a result of the flash, I suppose.  (See original here--Exotic Scenic Spot Wallpaper #5.)

How one can climb into a fictional scene in a book, a painted landscape, a song from the radio, an old photograph, the words of a poem--and feel at home. Like being a visitor in frozen time, bringing the There here. (Home isn't actually a real place, though.) How weird. And wonderful.