When I use to live in rural country my parents use to take me cherry picking. It would be my brother and parents and we would just walk the fields. I remember it being a happy moment because I smile everytime I smell cherries now. I don’t even eat cherries. We would just walk for hours and climb and collect cherries, our hands covered in dirt, stained with red. Collecting pounds and pounds of the crop sneaking in a cherry in my mouth every now and then. I was always scared of the people who owned the farm because they were Amish. That’s the only time I ever encountered people like that, the head of the farm had a frail whispy white beard almost looking like wire. His white collared shirt with black suspenders. Glasses and exhibiting a silver hook for a hand. His wife as plain as can be even having some whiskers of her own. I found it funny though that they did have an electronic scale to weigh out how much product we took. I guess there are some rules Amish people break to survive. I miss those moments when I was a kid. Being with my family having moments like that.
Wake up dreamer
I try to believe that my life is interesting when in reality it's not. I live a boring life of dance and work. I'm in a transitional period of my life trying to figure out what's next. Life is stagnant.
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