23.12.04
The Winter of the Mind
My mind is dull. Dulled by boredom, dulled by the lack of proper exercise, dulled by repetition. It wants to go somewhere else, to fly to new places, to soar... And yet, it doesn't. It feels old, tired and cold.
The thoughts are there, but they have no form. In the endless stream, flowing from the recesses of the mind and into the unknown, drift rare words. Can a thought not in words thought in words be remembered, I once asked myself... The answer, of course, is no.
The thoughts are there, but they have no form. In the endless stream, flowing from the recesses of the mind and into the unknown, drift rare words. Can a thought not in words thought in words be remembered, I once asked myself... The answer, of course, is no.
