The warmth was tangible and thick when I left this morning, coming here in awe of gathering storms and darkness where the sun should be, and now it looks the way it usually does, the untextured white of cloudcover, the rain that looks so cold, echoes of thunder in the distance.
Five more minutes and I will be alive again, able to release the tension, unwind in the absorption of perfecting a craft. I know it's an escape, but I have something to show for it. It defers those feelings of irrational melancholia that come over me on days like these, what I feel and what is true are often so different.
3 comments:
it's only an escape if you're not attending to something else that needs dealing with, see if your school's library has a copy of branka arsic's on leaving
Hey now, don't be badmouthing irrationality, often a creative fuel for such perfection, or the vastly underrated contemplation of that last duality.
Would be nice if folks wouldn't drive like idiots in the rain, though.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=qRShLb49EhI
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