Within Me, Without You.

The longer the journey, the more intense the emotion, the more 'one' he becomes. As he sits in his little translucent shell, far removed from the rest, he watches himself accept, struggle, strive, adapt and grope. Like a brand new friend, he watches over, ever-present and ever-elusive. It is the only way he knows how.

I think it is imperative for a person to feel profound grief as it is to experience ecstatic joy. This constant flux of emotions is one that keeps his mind from going benign and the soul complacent. There is also a comfort of sorts as I travel, watching life pass by while a story plays out a movie of vivid colors and imagination in his head. I also find it unnervingly coincidental that the music from the device is completely apt for the events unhurling in his mind and outside my being.

The big hard sun has gone behind the curtains as she begins to weep. It is annoying. It is also calming. Though I'd rather see her smile and I imagine so would he. Another day perhaps..

The gentle rumble of the train lulls him to sleep. One of those contented kinds that are short, eventful and extremely deep. He dreams of something very vivid and a little too real to be ignored. Getting up with a jolt, realizes he has been biting his tongue again in his sleep. It is a tick that seems to be evolving into a habit. Thinking back over this, the pain coupled with the vice-like grip does bring about a comfort of sorts. The pain reminds me of how it is to be alive and the grip, a comfort a childhood quilt would bestow in the night against the monsters.

Amusing, this little mind of ours. Amusing beyond compare and belief..

A fantastically written little book - 'In a Strange Room' by Damon Galgut coupled with the make-believe non-fiction of one's life has played a strong part in its creation.