Ever realized you smell like earth when you come in from the outside?
Nothing beats sitting outside on a blanket, soaking up the sun and playing with the breeze on a day like today. Simple, earthen, clean, dirty, fresh, cool, open, and alive.
Things make sense when I'm outside. They get smaller and less significant in comparison to the bright blue canopy over my head. Threads of conversation are no match for the threads of bare branches against the sky. Green envy pales in comparison to the green clover beneath my feet. Whispers of trouble are drowned out by the quiet stirring of leaves in the breeze.
Being outside is being young again. It's running again, laying in the grass again, not caring about dirt or sweat or how you look. Being outside is freedom. No one can tell you you're captive when you have the sky above you.
No one can keep me captive when I'm free.