Daze in the sky
In the wandering daze of my tiny room in the sky, I can see the other towers, other glittering lights. It seems reassuring to know that there are other people out there, alive in their own rooms, perhaps looking out their own windows. I discovered I had grown a habit of tying back my curtains only when the sun sets. In the evening, it seems as if my tiny room stretches and grows into a space larger than itself, but during the day, the harsh grey light draws out its boundaries from the shadows. I leave my curtains closed, so that the light might not invade.
Sickness confines me to a bed. My body rebels against the nature that has given birth to it and my mind scatters over small things.
I read, I sleep. It is difficult to eat.
There are times when my dreams leave a deep imprint. Motion blur of bodies, names, faces, sometimes faces I don't know. I often wander whence my mind finds the resources to conjure these characters.
I was a student, undertaking an art project for the term with two other friends whom I hadn't seen for some time as they have been away before the semester began. He came to me and said, "You know I wouldn't do it with someone I can't keep." Something to that effect, and I remember murmuring an understanding, even if a disagreement.
Dreams extended its haziness into my day, a missed appointment with a friend because she, too, was ill.
A day of unproductivity. I suppose they happen.
01 June 2003, Sunday, 22:44 PM
Alter ego of dandruff
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