Freefall
Panic. Confusion. Hysteria. I cannot fathom where I am headed nor where I am. The colours around me are blurred and blended into terrifying forms of a troubled artist's handiwork. Cold, menacing winds pierce into my bones. Slowly, I float. In the mortifying silence, I smile through gritted teeth. Somewhere in the freefall, I shifted focus. The persistent cold and the tumultuous colours seemed to fade away. And then in the hurricane, I found bliss. Now I struggle to make it stay. I looked outside at the soil that was slowly cooling down after surviving the ferocity of the midday sun. Scalding streams of wind were kicking up dust and sprinkling it over the road. The world outside was bone dry, unaware of the tempests which had enraged the seas of thought in which I was struggling to stay afloat. Stationed at my table, looking over the dusty summer evening, I tried to ground myself to reality and plant the tree of thought back in its place again, afte...