The Ceiling:
I’ve often found comfort in glaring at the ceiling. Staring upwardly towards nothing, really: a gray block of cement, standing between the sky and me.
In the company of others, however, I tend to stare downwardly instead, as it generally seems more socially accepted.
The floor also contains some of this calmful bliss that I seek —an escape from reality; Journeys far from the concrete, near unperceivable ideas.
So anyone who’s looked into my eyes has hopefully seen very little, or better yet nothing at all —a gray silhouette around the black pupil, hiding on the blank canvas as a painting without content, void of motive.
Cover art: Liegende by John William Godward, 1893
I stare downwardly while I'm walking because the swaths of grime beneath my feet are more cause for alarm than the lack of stars outside at night. Light pollution's left me jaded.
i loved this. you put into words some of the best parts of my life in a way I never thought possible.
thank you and thank you and thank you...
btw, cool name.
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