The paper nights are what frighten me. Dark and blurry ones. The ones where you dare not look behind and where you just have to run run run run because the whole lot of is disintegrating like tissue paper in the rain, melting into a smeary fog.
Might be disintegrating. That's the scary part.
Perhaps it's cowardly not to embrace it? What is it about the need for everything to be solid, unchangeable, definite, anyway?
The sunshine-y days are safe... light shimmering on everything and such clear, minute detail, illuminated, help to fix you in the present. You can be almost sure that if you reached out to feel the sand or the sea, you'd feel them moving under your fingertips. Running too, that's good. Cold air smacking you in the lungs and the feet bouncing off hard ground.
Better not to doubt it, better to accept 'reality', whatever that might be, or else you might just stay in a little cocoon, time eaten up by trying to convince yourself that none of it matters anyway.
David Gordon said; "nobody in their day-to-day lives doubts the existence of the physical world, or takes the concept of some kind of transcendent realm seriously"
... You can tell that he never met me!
Tuesday 2 March 2010
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