prairie girl

Seemingly my desire to move abroad is as fervent as ever. In part due to the delicately soupçon scent of pine needles wafting through the air. A perspicuous landscape of earthy tones and surroundings. One embellished by historically opulent architecture, distinguished by the austere sight of turbines; a contrast of mans exploits.

I’ve been seriously contemplating what life could possibly resemble in taking up residence here in Europe. One point I’ve continuously grappled with (aside from undeniable integration issues) is what I would do for a living. Considering writing may or may not be overly feasible in a country in which English is secondary.

Important, yes, but nonetheless inferior.

But it was through endless views of architectural decrepitude and abandonment along the countryside and within major cities that I realised the answers I’d been seeking were glaringly obvious.

Rejuvenation.

Grandiose thoughts of restoring such bygone estates and dwellings ignite something from within. Numerous blueprints and proposals begin to arrange themselves in my mind, with concepts to either sell or rent such spaces being too lucrative to pass up. And feelings of undeniable fulfilment in creativity are too worthwhile to reject.

It is a newfound passion project.

But then there are stray dogs who are in need of kindness and companionship. In particular a golden pup with the most weary and melancholic eyes. An old soul, abandoned and left tethered to the unsheltered stairwell of his late humans home. Regrettably omitted from society most days. Oh how my heart bleeds for this petite spirit; one which has seemingly lost all hope.

How I wish I could restore his faith and shower him with perpetual love and comfort.

I began envisioning gaining his trust, slowly but surely. Naming him Pinto and promising to adore him until the end of days. A promise I knew I could effortlessly uphold. But then there is yet another dejected stray who rests his fuzzy grey head on the middle of the road at midnight.

Another heartbreaking and terrifying sight.

I never once believed I had the potential nor the capacity to cause drastic change. And yet looking into the eyes of such unadulterated creatures such wonderings become irrelevant. Maybe this is my calling. To save and spare the lives of the forgotten; both innate and manmade. Realistically I’ll never be truly adept to extricate every discarded soul. But the knowledge that I could possibly salvage the lives of a handful is comforting enough.

Perhaps this is how I could live out my days on a European continent.

Perhaps this could be my contribution to Earth.

xxx