A broad few thoughts from home
In happier times I have travelled across wide oceans and countries. Every so often I get this big howl that builds up inside. It’s not a want, it’s a deep seated need for wide open spaces, big skies and a horizon much broader than those found in Britain. Places that don’t feel so cooped up. It’s probably one of the reasons why I put up with the nonsense that gets thrown my way every single hour of the working day. I like being out in the open where I can look up every now and again. I’ll even tolerate the traffic fumes.
Like this winter just gone, once the bare branches are once more leaf laden, my spirits perk up and the drab days are forgotten, for a while at least. Living things that soften the harsh edges of stark modern architecture. Architecture that looks good on the drawing board, but when these concrete vampires are actually built they leach the wellspring of life out of you every time you look at them.
That said, I’m not naturally an urban creature; although a good chunk of my working life has been spent in such concrete boxes building and fixing things with nary a glimpse of sunshine for days on end. It’s different when you’re so absorbed in what you are doing that you look at your watch once a day and think “Oops, time to go home, overtime is not paid on this job.” You don’t get time to let the starkness of pastel painted concrete bother you. On the streets it’s different; all this stuff is all too depressingly in your face.
Down in the shadowy recesses of my soul is this werewolf who raises his throat to the skies every so often and cries out for open spaces. Like today. It’s very unsettling. I can’t focus on anything. Story threads won’t weave together properly. I get jittery and nervous for no reason whatsoever. It’s nothing to do with being back on duty first thing tomorrow. I think.
Something about the grey skies and showers has caused my ‘inner man’ to cringe and hunker down, trying to find a happy thought. Trouble is, all my happy thoughts are of far away places, which makes me even worse. My whole head feels wired; I keep on remembering things like a particular blue of a morning sky, and wide roads that seem to go on forever through huge forests. Lakes and water so clear you can see the bottom a good fifteen to twenty feet below. Getting caught in heavy rain that was like a warm power shower and not caring about getting wet through. People who were so all fired nice you didn’t want to leave even though you were only passing through.
All I know is, I’m going back that way sometime in the not too distant future. Maybe for good. I know exactly the feeling this piece of verse describes, although I wasn’t thinking of Africa.
Like this winter just gone, once the bare branches are once more leaf laden, my spirits perk up and the drab days are forgotten, for a while at least. Living things that soften the harsh edges of stark modern architecture. Architecture that looks good on the drawing board, but when these concrete vampires are actually built they leach the wellspring of life out of you every time you look at them.
That said, I’m not naturally an urban creature; although a good chunk of my working life has been spent in such concrete boxes building and fixing things with nary a glimpse of sunshine for days on end. It’s different when you’re so absorbed in what you are doing that you look at your watch once a day and think “Oops, time to go home, overtime is not paid on this job.” You don’t get time to let the starkness of pastel painted concrete bother you. On the streets it’s different; all this stuff is all too depressingly in your face.
Down in the shadowy recesses of my soul is this werewolf who raises his throat to the skies every so often and cries out for open spaces. Like today. It’s very unsettling. I can’t focus on anything. Story threads won’t weave together properly. I get jittery and nervous for no reason whatsoever. It’s nothing to do with being back on duty first thing tomorrow. I think.
Something about the grey skies and showers has caused my ‘inner man’ to cringe and hunker down, trying to find a happy thought. Trouble is, all my happy thoughts are of far away places, which makes me even worse. My whole head feels wired; I keep on remembering things like a particular blue of a morning sky, and wide roads that seem to go on forever through huge forests. Lakes and water so clear you can see the bottom a good fifteen to twenty feet below. Getting caught in heavy rain that was like a warm power shower and not caring about getting wet through. People who were so all fired nice you didn’t want to leave even though you were only passing through.
All I know is, I’m going back that way sometime in the not too distant future. Maybe for good. I know exactly the feeling this piece of verse describes, although I wasn’t thinking of Africa.
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