It's difficult to live in a country which isn't your own. Because you cannot afford to be a fop here for want of good company. So the fop-ishness has to stay within.
Does this mean you can be one in your own? I guess so. It can at least borderline between self-indulgence and being foppy? Does that make sense?
I realized I am a chameleon of sorts today. And all this time when I thought I knew how to play the game- I didn't. I realized I was born during a game.
General discontent prevails today. And I simply cannot savour the life that is mine. In order to avoid further pessimism I should perhaps start talking about the the snow that looked delicious to my eyes.
I met with harmony, regret, soulfulness, agony, apathetic conversations, unending ramblings,disillusionment, simplicity and undescriptive lifestyles all in the course of a week this time. Quite dramatic in its own way.
I leave for Mexico soon. I think that's the place I need to be. Just the desire to melt into the colours and the screams and all that secretionary life.
No comments:
Post a Comment