Inspired by Vincent van Gogh’s “Cottages with Thatched Roofs”
I am aware of the wind, gutsy and bold, in stark contrast to the elements surrounding me. This wind nudges me along a cobblestone road that winds around thatched roof cottages melting into the hillside. I am here to meet a friend, I think. Warmth radiates through me, its source unseen but intimate. I do not feel alone. Clouds form wave-like faces, familiar but unknown. Cool shades of orange and green greet me as I pause by a garden. Naked vines echo abundance. The hillside ahead sprawls fallow, buried in parched hay. Cypress trees casually twist into absurd shapes, amusing me. I sense that my friend will soon appear, as I approach one cottage. Its wooden door invites a knock; I do. The wind carries the hollow sound of my pounding down the street mockingly. When no one responds, I peer through a tiny pane window. A sparsely furnished room comes into view. Shadowy forms move about. I would call out but the name of my friend eludes me. I feel as if I am a brush stroke of a painting, incomplete, still being contemplated.
Many months later, a mother caresses her new born child. Outside, Mediterranean breezes blow.