oh be warned stranger from distant lands that landing here might be like eating a cloud

Sometimes I feel I could die from wishing I could be back in that little country I grew up in. I don't wish for that innocence or naivety of growing up because I am still naive and I still have the innocence of wishing and it's only better now because I understand the wishing a bit more.
Sometimes when it gets windy here I'm overwhelmed by wishing I was standing on that gravel road at dusk with the purple fields edged by scraggly ditches stretching off away from my feet out to the end of the world. A world where I am not in the playground captivity of a university. A world that will only exist at certain times under certain moons for certain people with certain moods.

And then we stand up and move on.
Bleh, there are my prosy thoughts again.