Hideaway | Short Prose – Random Specific Thoughts
Sometimes when it’s too sunny that the rays penetrate my skin and the heat burns my soul, when it’s too cold that the world outside is hauntingly heartless, I run away. The day is gentle and the rising noise of life heralds the start of a new memory.
To a world of my making where there are plenty of hardcovers, wooden floors that click with every step, a sun that never stops shining and a home that never stops welcoming.
There is life in the air and a sort of damp atmosphere soaked with smiles and dripping down on all outside, the moisture warm against their skin.
Every point is the centre of a circle, a corner of a square, the beginning of infinity and we are here and there, everywhere and nowhere. A mathematical impossibility but a reality we live everyday.
A world that shelters so many runaways, a safe haven that houses plenty of lost wanderers. I can see so many paths leading to hideaways as unique as the explorers. There’s a street lamp that’s barely glowing, a faint wisp of light battling to be seen through the fog that clouds my vision and envelopes me in its cold grasp.
It’s immaculate a moment to realise how the race never ceases. Each second is a trip down memory lane as your hideaway shows you objects that induces memories you never knew you had – a binocular, a lone shoe and a pencil too short to use.
Fireworks light up the sky as I head back home and I’m reminded of how we can literally create light no matter how short-lived it is, how hope is an entity that never dies and just how much of a wonderful, marvelous beautiful idea it is to live and soak in the moment.
The present is my hideaway with all the glories of uncertainty.