Everyone needs a place of solitude. Somewhere they can go, quietly, to let their loud, busy thoughts slow down and let themselves be examined, or let the stupefied, sleepful mind wake up from the bombardment of entertainment. Since there doesn't seem to be any such place here, I have imagined one:
A river. There are rocks everywhere, covered in moss and water like glass cloth. On the banks, a few saplings and the odd fern. There is one especially large, broad rock in the center of the river, right where a band of rocks span the water and make a tiny waterfall. This rock is low, close to the water without being covered by the water's sheet. If you lay on it and close your eyes, you are surrounded by the river's rushing, trickling sound, running smoothly past you to its future. On clear nights, when the stars come out, and the moon makes vague shadows on the ground, anyone can go out there lay down on the rock, hands under their heads and look and think.
how can a person be empty of words? of thoughts? of images? of creativity and imagination?
What can so thoroughly suck the life out of a person? And what does it take to get that life back?
1 comment:
i wish i had a place like that to go and think. sounds glorious. :)
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