I see the clouds rolling by, faster and faster with each passing day. The longer I live, the more I think that life isn’t about untangling the knots laid before you, but instead tracing out the curves and folds and seeing the simple beauty in their complexity. The deep hunger to know this universe goes unsated for so long, with the greatest joke being that when you’ve learned enough to be satisfied, it’s just about time to clock out. There’s something freeing in insignificance. Perhaps it is the recognition that all the things we are told are small, but feel large, are just as important as the loftier dreams that dangle above our heads.
The pale morning sun. The clear, icy sky. The naked branches waving. The clouds rolling by.
Swallows soaring. It’s hard to feel so much. Harder still, to see those frosty peaks at the bottom of dank valleys. But every now and then, I take a moment to step outside myself and see a wisp of steam caught in the breeze, or feel cold air on the warmth of my neck. Every now and then an image of a face appears before me. The touch of a body. The peal of laughter. Some reminder plucked from fleeting memory that recontextualises the present ennui, giving fresh perspective from afar. A piton from which to wrap the fluttering flags of thought.
Chat some shit to yourself. Dabble with half-baked philosophy. Be edgy. Be embarrassing. Do whatever it is you do to get your head straight. There’s a lot of really wonderful things to see, and they're best seen when you’re not staring at the ground.
Paddy Dobson
19th December 2020