If I let my mind go where it pleases, it’ll never come back to me. It’ll walk about the weather first then the general seasons and how they don’t seem to exist here. It will ponder, in depth and quietly how there are really only two seasons here- winter and summer and how the seasons that exist only in name are just battle grounds for the two real seasons. Then, it will grow bored and some other things to explore.
My mind will then go to more trivial things- things I want but don’t need like a new pair of headphones or more supplies for the imaginary painting I have yet to paint. In evitably song lyrics will come to mind, or some forgotten line in a book I read many years ago. I’ll play with it for awhile, disecting it and running it through my head again, sounding it out and dancing around it. Then, my mind will look for other lines, tracind them down and committing them to a memory that is flakely at best, and at worst, untrustworthy.
Eventually some line will lead me to a memory. And then to another. And another. My mind will stay there, in those shadowed places and let them pass over again and again. Like the Sun and Moon on a never-ending day.


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