The one hated thing of any great recluse is that ridiculous state of loneliness. I am in a melancholic stupor. My headphones are no longer keeping my thoughts at bay which are now drowning out the audio and insistent drumming from next door. I thought a day in was needed but I’ll need to escape soon and get some air. Its dark outside and I should be able to wander freely. (fear not those who don’t know me so well.. I understand this as part of my emotional rhythm. The notes will change and i will be wrapped up in a blanket of bliss in no time.) Being so far away magnifies all emotions and the solitude allows time to follow any and all thoughts down brightly lit streets and dingy alleys and I am a willing flâneur!
I return and all the sorrowfulness of a couple hours ago has been replaced with exuberance for the swamp. The little streets at night seem new and the shopkeepers sit in solace as I walk past and peruse their wares of old lampshades and books. The air feels cold and fresh after the days rain. I avoid the main drag and walk aimlessly. Here, I feel I am so vulnerable to super speedy transformations of mind, it seems like seconds pass as I temper several emotional, countering states and its constant. Im walking a mental tightrope which is exhilarating and terrifying simultaneously. Its the introspection Ive been hanging for.. self indulgence.