Originally written to simply describe a night time search for a car, I see now that it describes many of the feelings and situations we can all experience in life when we spontaneously find ourselves in circumstances that we are not quite sure where we are, where we were going, where to go next or how to get there.

 

unapologetically baring vulnerability;

(is there a more beautiful thing?)

 

My friend, with poor sense of direction, crossing the boundary from memory of day to the present night of shadowy shapes,

memory yet more twisted from so many corridors and hazy lights as she looks this way and that, each step not with the usual solid pillars, the structural strength with which our being is normally carried but with

dis-ease,

uncertainty.

 

All this in the search for her car,

the carriage back to the safe,

the known, the familiar;

that haven we call,

home.

 

Discomfort.

 

To thee, my friend, I wrap my arms around you that the rhythm of my warm blood remind,

You are not alone.

Xx

Further thoughts: Nietzsche might call this unease and confusion, Nausea. Could this be a result of the critical idea fading from our thoughts… our forgetfulness of the fundamental question that motivates all that we are and do;

 

 

 

what is my reason for being?

What greater power over life, circumstance and situation than being able to answer, to know this?