como se siente depende del mente

The coldness creeps in through the small crack left in my window as the sounds of church bells toll in the distance in the monastery. All is quiet, all is calm. The coldness grips and clings to my bones, stealing my breath away as i watch the air turn to white in exhalation. Rest does not come easy to me as i creep lower under hiding beanth the hues of my orange blanket. The solidarity of the monastery as well as the room structure i have found key catalysts in my daily reflection. It is amazing that such silence can invoke in all of us a series of reflection as we try to rub the sleep from our exhausted eyes. I walk to the terrace to see the village blanketed in a cold front that chills me to the bones. I shiver as i wrap myself closer in my wool scarf, trying to conserve what body heat i may have left. I take a long sip of my dark Moorish coffee as i lift my head to the sky as in some hope that a sun beam will come down and warm me. I feel so alive yet so dead as i rest my fatigue in an old wooden chair. The Sierra Nevada isnt visible today as it too has become lost beneath the blanket and the cold. I feel my heart quicken as it tries to warm my body while a north wind blows and gently tosses my hair about my face, awakening the inner spirit. I draw my knees into my chest sipping my coffee i am lost in thought as i gaze at the Moorish arches and cobblestone streets.
I gaze out reflecting on the fragility of the architecture comparing it quietly to the human mind. The wind dances and carries a series of leaves on the cobblestones as my head races in the same matter, a series of thoughts and emotions. My eyes reveal contemplation to any bystander should they gaze long enough. I am wondering, weighing, wishing and searching for clarity. The old Albaczyin village provides a perfect escape to do just that. I smile relinquishing in the fact that i am in Spain, pursuing my dreams on my own and succeeding. My sense of inner strength and accomplishment warms me as a challenging wind blows.
A creak at the door produces a fellow trainee tired from previous nights activities who exclaims tidings of Good Morning and a comment on the weather. " There is a daze, you can't make out anything in the distance." To which i smile and reply, " No, no for the first time its all so clear."