Richard Misrach/NYTimes
On July 17, I woke up feeling despondent. Must be the weather I thought. But when I went back to the office that afternoon, the reason popped up, literally, via my email alert.
Strange, I thought, that subconsciously, my mind still longs for the long gone. It must have been used to the feeling, the excitement.
Last night, in my dreams, I went back to that old place where I had met he who I dare not dignify with a name. But he who I dare not dignify with a name was not there anymore. I was in a race, a cyclist ranked no. 6 at that moment, but I quit, before the next leg has even started.
"What did it mean?" I asked Ruth who is in the province at this moment.
"We all know that you know what it means," came the text, or something like that.
Frankly I don't.
What I can relate to with the dream, are feelings of being tired. Of quitting. Of giving up. And the relief that comes after. I did attempt to look for he who I dare not dignify with a name. But when I did not find he who I dare not dignify with a name, I felt sad but promptly got a hold of my feelings.
Today, I just want to drift away. I am enamored by the sea. It is a perfect escape. It's sheer expanse shall overpower me. And I will be reminded, that something is bigger, always bigger, than the hollering silence within.
I shall soak in that realisation then once again, empty myself. The sea shall forever fill it with other memories.
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