I wanted to go on an immense journey, to travel night and day into
the unknown until, forgetting my old self, I came into possession
of a new self, one that I might have missed on my previous travels.
But the first step was beyond me. I lay in bed, unable to move,
pondering, as one does at my age, the ways of melancholy—how it
seeps into the spirit, how it disincarnates the will, how it banishes
the senses to the chill of twilight, how even the best and worst
intentions wither in its keep. I kept staring at the ceiling, then suddenly
felt a blast of cold air, and I was gone.
Mark Strand
the unknown until, forgetting my old self, I came into possession
of a new self, one that I might have missed on my previous travels.
But the first step was beyond me. I lay in bed, unable to move,
pondering, as one does at my age, the ways of melancholy—how it
seeps into the spirit, how it disincarnates the will, how it banishes
the senses to the chill of twilight, how even the best and worst
intentions wither in its keep. I kept staring at the ceiling, then suddenly
felt a blast of cold air, and I was gone.
Mark Strand
Wooo-ooof. I felt breathless.
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