Bookmark #890

Got excited by the most mundane things today, almost thoughtless happiness as it crept over to me, caught me off guard and announced itself as if playing a game of hide and seek. The perfectly smooth, laminar flow of water as I did the dishes, the synchronised reflection of myself in the glossy refrigerator door as I exercised on a mat before it, and the kindness of a client at work of all places. Many other things, of course, followed suit, big and small, but there was nothing but joy and a sort of restfulness to the day that, while not unbeknownst to me, is always welcome.

Lately, no thought has come to my mind owing to the supremely busy, jam-packed days I have led. And since there is not much to think about, there is even less to write about. And now, I must sit and invest a piece and tell you about something incredible, something novel and, perhaps, dazzling. But there is nothing like that here, no insight. All I have are days after days, and each one better than the next, and if not better than the same, which is never a bad thing to have either, in my experience. When I wake up here, the sun is strained through the beige curtains and today, groggy as I was, I clicked a picture of it, and when I say it, I mean the nothingness of the first light of the day. I did not remember the picture because I fell asleep right after, but then, in the evening, I saw it again and recalled how it was so compelling a sight; lost in the blanket of sleep as I was, I had to take a picture. It told me a thing or two about the state of my mind and informed me of my happiness, like a friend gives you a compliment when you are beaming.

Little else to say, and the night has already gotten on, so I must stop here. Perhaps tomorrow, something will happen, and I will have a crucial thing to talk about. Until then, all I have are the mundane ramblings of a mirthful man. These words will one day be read, and, at first, they will find them overflowing with feeling, and when they are done reading them, to their dismay, they will find the sum total to be nought. All of it will add to nothing. And the words will, at that moment and no other, become an honest depiction of a life lived.

// if you want to support this walk to nowhere, you can pitch in here