| Gray blah blah blah... |
[Apr. 29th, 2003|06:48 am]
rejectomorph
|
|
I'm reminded of Somerset Maugham's Rain, though I don't feel particularly like Sadie Thompson, or like the Hellfire-and damnation minister. All I feel is as though I've been transported to some rainforest, and I may never see a dry day again. I also feel as though all my thoughts have been washed away, as though I've been hypnotized by the incessant murmur of the beating and trickling water, until my mind has been dissolved and absorbed into a Zen void of gray luminescence empty of desire. Except, of course, that I do desire at least one thing. I desire to sleep. Oh, a little bit of direct sunlight when I wake up, please? |
|
