Today is the day after. The day when your body is bumped and scratched and bruised and tender, but in a happy way and when it aches and creaks it reminds you of how you fell while spinning and dancing; or how you cut yourself while cutting lemons for the best mojitos ever; or where you somehow managed to drift through sleep in the blistering heat and the cushionless sofa left its impress on your body.
The day after, you might feel hollowed out and your cloudy mind may recede back to its familiar patterns of doubt and confusion, you drag yourself back into your shell and pace there, arguing back and forth with yourself. You feel young and clueless and old and stagnant at the same time. You feel like you're not going anywhere. Haven't you been in this same spot in bed for 2 months? Isn't this where you always want to be? With the covers pulled up over your face? But when you step on the balcony into the stagnant stale air and if you happen to catch a faint breeze, you feel restless, you want to be out there yet you feel unready.
You listen to one song on repeat and you think about the last night and it fills you up again, the laughter and the noise and the music. Good food, good conversation, drunken singing and being in the right place with only people you love. It's good to revisit a place that you haven't been in a while, specially when things are just right and you can feel that particular kind of magic creeping into the night. It colours your memory of it and makes you forget your internal dialogue.
On our way there cramped in the car I drifted off while looking at the lights from the buildings and billboards and thought about how I really wish to find that there is magic, (the definition of which I'll leave open) in the real world, so we can stop being so sure of ourselves and be taken in by something.
The day after, you might feel hollowed out and your cloudy mind may recede back to its familiar patterns of doubt and confusion, you drag yourself back into your shell and pace there, arguing back and forth with yourself. You feel young and clueless and old and stagnant at the same time. You feel like you're not going anywhere. Haven't you been in this same spot in bed for 2 months? Isn't this where you always want to be? With the covers pulled up over your face? But when you step on the balcony into the stagnant stale air and if you happen to catch a faint breeze, you feel restless, you want to be out there yet you feel unready.
You listen to one song on repeat and you think about the last night and it fills you up again, the laughter and the noise and the music. Good food, good conversation, drunken singing and being in the right place with only people you love. It's good to revisit a place that you haven't been in a while, specially when things are just right and you can feel that particular kind of magic creeping into the night. It colours your memory of it and makes you forget your internal dialogue.
On our way there cramped in the car I drifted off while looking at the lights from the buildings and billboards and thought about how I really wish to find that there is magic, (the definition of which I'll leave open) in the real world, so we can stop being so sure of ourselves and be taken in by something.
1 comment:
this is very cool. there's plenty of magic to be found man. you just have to look. and give things(and people) a chance.
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