There are those lazy evenings, like today – it rains, the ground is wet, windows stained with drops of rain, the cat’s in the corner in a perfect cozy curl, and the whole room smells like hot coffee. It’s a small world, once you take your mind off your goals. There’s just you, and these walls.

I like walls.
They’re safe, and warm. It’s that sort of evening. It had rained, and it’s humid, yet it’s strangely warm. If I would pause the slight rocking of my feet, I might fall off into another dimension, because there’s a portal to another realm underneath me.

It thundered heavily some time back, and electricity got cut off. I put my computer under because the light started to hurt my eyes. The evening was so dull and dim, and I felt so too. I wanted to unwind, to stop the momentum. We do travel very fast in this world, in fancy cars made of dreams – and when you stop, you realize why you don’t stop. We don’t stop. We won’t stop. We’re scared, because when the momentum stops, and your dream-built-cars don’t carry you on, there’s truly nothing.

There’s you, and there are the walls.
Always.

I hate walls too.

I like to see the grass, fields of greenery and nature, listen to the birds, and the flow of a rivulet – spread far and wide beyond me.
Why?
Because when my vehicle stops, and my momentum is gone, there would be more than nothing before my eyes. Then, filled with nature, the fresh fragrance of wet soil and the breeze of the cold humidity of the grass dew – would be beauty.

Out there, in the world, beauty lies. So peaceful, so graceful, and yet so unforgiving.

But here we are, within warm and safe walls, chasing goals driving fancy cars built of dreams.
And here I am, unwinding, and displeased.
But then, the next morning, I open a jar of Nutella for breakfast, and I am grateful. Oh so grateful, that this is my life, and not anything else.
And so is any other sort of admiration, and love, and yearning. So short lived.
Just like our own lives. We are so little, so volatile and so vulnerable. So where is the guarantee that I will not seek the taste of heavy chocolate cream out there in nature?
And so is everything.
What is the guarantee that I will not wish for more, once my goals have turned to realities?

I suppose that, is human nature.
And that there is never a sort of peace that is eternal, and neither is there true beauty. But most of all, there is no true unwinding, and no true stopping of momentum.

So we go on, and on, and on….

/artwork is mine. :) /