I need a day for myself, where the future does not call me and the past doesn’t run up to me. Where people don’t matter, neither do responsibilities. Just a day, for myself. I sit in a chair, feeling the cool zephyr caress my face, making its way through my hair.
With a diary, and a pen with fathomless ink harboring those unspoken thoughts as I stare into the cosmos. Silence which doesn’t deafen and enchants me with its melody. Unaware of truths and lies, reality and fantasy, I dive into the depths of now. Deep enough to lose track of time and get lost in the crevices of reveries and still bounce back when the end of the day closes in on me. It is not too much of a desideratum, is it?