Serendipity of Nonsense

Earthen floors, maybe clay even. Lamplight, flickering but not eerie, casting warm shadows on uneven stone walls, smooth to the touch nevertheless. Inside the room, the lamp makes everything yellow, orange, amber, brown. Its light is bright enough to make the outlines of the objects in the room visible, but not bright enough for individual colours, textures, to be seen clearly. A thin curtain separates this little oasis of light from the rest of the world. Outside, the night hasn't yet surrendered to dawn and the sky and the world shift between shades of blue, as if uncertain whether it's time for light or darkness. There are no trees outside, only bare mountains, rock and stone, but beautiful in a hard way and not inhospitable. Inside, on the cool floor, a cold breeze rippling across the room, I sit cross-legged , covered with some kind of dark, woollen shawl or robe, only my face uncovered as I drink hot, spicy, unfamiliar tea through a small earthen  pot. ...

I've been thinking, about nothing in particular however everything in general. The outlook is rather grim, for some reason. I'm not very clear as to what that reason is. I suspect it is because of self indulgence than any concrete malady. So, now I obviously have to over-analyse it. Goodness, this blog must be the most mixed up collection of pap in the world. Maybe not. Let's not be presumptuous this early in the night. I almost never blog in the morning. That's because I'm almost never up. That doesn't mean that I can't, does it? Sorrow, pain, misery.  It has some sort of strange glamour attached to it. The songs that touch us the most are the ones that speak of loss and unrequited emotions. They speak of what could have been. I've heard people talk of migraines as if just the act of suffering a migraine is one of martyrdom that somehow makes them deeper, more intense people. I suffer from it. I used to think it makes me superior to others. Ta...