A walk through tranquility
As I walk through the fields my feet softly churn the dirt. Purple runs until the hills cover my sight. The smell is so calming, washing away my fear, doubt, and pain.
The air so heavy with it keeps everything in it's reach at a slow pace. Even the bees, whom are working hard, seem to be in slow motion. The feathery green leaves trail up to violet spirals. Goats and sheep graze on the hill sides, their bells tinkle. While an eagle floats above, watching all that lays below.
I stop and cherish the sacred smell. I stand in what seems like the middle of nowhere. My skin, blanketed with the powder from the plants.
The markets are filled with food, oils, and art, all tied back to what makes the land so beautiful. Monet, Van Gogh, Picasso, all drawn to the valley, attempting to mimic the purple prominence.
The indigo ocean lays unmoving. I feel like a ship floating in calm waters. The dark maroon of my cloak and brown shorts make me stand out among the waves of magenta.
I can hear singing from the village. Summer Solstice brings people from all around the world. People come to sell their wares. Everything from handmade jewelry and clothing, to foods like bread and milk. Ice cream, cake, and Beurre blanc, all infused with the oil from the lilac plant.
I barely notice it but I slowly, quietly, peacefully, fall asleep.
