Grab a big bowl and load up with some stew... umm... I realize that sounds kind of cheesy, but just humour me for now... please.
These are some short paragraphs of stuff I wrote a long while ago
The white blouse hung off an elegant coat rack. Beside it the tall window graced the path of light, which landed gently on the rippling shirt. It was a picture of absolute peace. On cloudy days, when the window was closed, I would not even enter the room; and on days when I looked towards the window and did not see the blouse, I would look down and fill myself with happiness to see that I was wearing it.
When it rained, I sat in the old kitchen with my legs beneath me, my feet resting on the metal stool rung. The rain would thrum on the windows and on the side of the house. It would create puddles and slice itself between the blades of grass. I would hug my mug close between my hands and let it rest near my nose. Aromas of cinnamon would linger in the room, emanating from a warm oven. And then I’d feel secure.
On winter evenings when the sun’s light melted away, the cozy living room would beckon to me. ‘Oh! may I hug you close and let you sink into my fabric,’ my chair would say in quivering expectation. And so I would: with my legs tucked to one side and my shoulder resting on the other. My back would lean into a beautifully comfortable position and I would sink into the story in my book.
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