The directed and insistent communication of a phone call or an email is often times just too much for these tired thoughts to deal with and so, inevitably, it is this space that they come to. In an attempt to get away from it all, kick back, and relax as a summer day lazes around on a bed of earth, these hobbit-like creatures of brain-fancy sit quietly here, unheeded, unheard, and perfectly quiet.
Unable to speak to the specifics of one person or to address a single worry, these thoughts are more general and unfettered, free in there movement, slow in their pace. Tired, but excited. Fast but languid.
Truthfully, I mostly just sit and think. I don't record even a tenth of what I might, if there were some reason to. It's the lack of purpose and the lack of direction that these thoughts embody which give them their air-like qualities, unowned, unspecific, with no attachments no connections and no sense of being. They are, just as things which cannot fathom their own existence; they just are.
Someday, perhaps, I will return to a more directed approach. Someday when there are clearer goals of purpose, when need arises, perhaps there will be more concrete poured into this foundation but, for now, it's all just air on the wind; unknowing, empty, freely spaciously floating.
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the guys: philogynist jaime tony - the gals:raymi raspil
