Vancouver, you really are an emotionally unstable teenager. One day you’re crying cats and dogs and another day you’re showing off your sun. Just last week, you were telling me about the melancholic fog that’s constantly hanging over your head. Are you always this dramatic?
I must commend you however, you’re certainly not afraid to express you’re feelings. You’re a big boy now, and it’s your party and you can cry if you want to.
You’ve always encouraged adapting to the situation. Help your stuck-at-home-staring-out-our-dreary-windows population to put on their fashionably functional Hunter boots and Lululemon coats to kiss the rain and enjoy the tears.
Your crying ways have forced me to be flexible, not just on my mat, but in a yogic way. You’ve shown me that Adaptation is more than just a comedic film, but making my own choice to find freedom in every mood and emotions you throw my way.
No more small-talk weather blues or cloudy complaints, I choose to rebel against your teenage ways. I want freedom in my pelvis in a hipster kind of way. Stir my hips in an inward spiraling direction so I may freely fit in any size of shin hugging jeans.
I want freedom like you do, to express what you want without throwing a fit. You show to me your heart and thus I connect to you, Vancouver. Your young and wild, but you’re also yesterday and wise. Thank you for teaching me your watery ways of adaptable freedom.