amble on

A glorious stream of golden light poured over me as I was finishing the nightly walks that so enthrall my spirit. I do so treasure these moments, when the air is inoffensive and the sky a piercing shade of blue, and lazy yellow colours seem to leak through the muted green foliage that hangs above my head. These movements, which might seem so small and insignificant, do mean so much to me because I scarcely see the day and I find that being surrounded by things considered pastoral generally ease my mind of its burdens. I know that I can’t walk down a simple shire road, no the avenue is to industrialized, the once bucolic canopy lanes have been littered with shrines to commercialism and overpriced town houses; despite that some paths are quite and I am fortunate that the songs of the tree have not been quieted.
I am not certain if my feelings are shared by anyone else, but I do know when I am alone in my thoughts facing the beauty of nature I do feel a force greater then myself, I would be hesitant to name this force since I do believe that names unfairly trap concepts but I feel comforted by the idea that in this world as alone as I am there is some indescribable force that exists beyond myself. The enjoyment I am afraid was short lived yesterday, because as I walked down the fair road my eyes were besieged by the once splendid Madame P.
It was only for a second that my eyes were assaulted by her black spirit, but believe me gentle readers when I say the image has faded from my mind as if a bad dream that had ruined my slumber had faded back to the impenetrable darkness when aroused. She was sitting upright in her carriage, a wheezing coughing thing that looked fit for a funeral possession, and her chauffer looked exhausted by the toil her presence exudes. It was only by chance that our heads turned towards one another, and for reasons I can not understand a frown was writ across my brow, it seemed that my mind was disgusted by the merest thought of the once luminous beauty. She returned my animosity and pulled down the shade, as if my common blood was a grave insult to her aristocratic fantasies. I heard her yell to the driver that more speed was needed and the carriage plopped loudly into the setting sun.
As I said before I do enjoy a leisurely and lengthy stroll through my surroundings, I believe while greatly diminished there is still some burst of beauty in this gray ashy world, but I loath when my peace is interrupted by the gapping stares and barbs of fools. I have had all manner of rakes and fools destroy my peace, it is not just insults that have been thrown out of their carriages as they ride past, so sometimes these things happen when shallow twisted people ruin a otherwise pleasant day.