literate passion

i want to sit in the garden and record: the smells of flowers, the sun, and the sound of leaves in the wind. but I want to be selective. i don't want to record what I don't like. its not about relaying reality for me anymore. i used to be so judicious in that. but now I want my writing to be a fantasy. i want to change reality with words. i want to make this moment something else, something more. i want to heighten certain things and erase others. maybe this garden isn’t here but somewhere in the depths of England. maybe it’s in a bigger house with a bigger garden and i’m someone else but all the feelings are the same. there’s so many possibilities, just from catching the smell of flowers on the breeze. all that potential.