Life

Colors of being alone

  Third night of cottage life. As time went by, the silence got used to it, the darkness got used to it, and the night didn’t feel so scary anymore. Add firewood to the stove, move the chair to read a book in front of the stove. When I am tired from reading, I empty my mind and stare blankly at the flames in the furnace. I can never get tired of watching the flames. There are various shapes and colors, and they move around like living creatures, freely. Birth, reunion, parting, death.
  If it’s not cloudy, go out and look up at the sky. The stars no longer make me feel so helpless, but I begin to feel that they are close and amiable. Every star shines differently. I remember a few stars and watch their twinkle. The stars suddenly shone brightly as if remembering something important. The moon was white and bright, and when I stared at it, I could almost see the rocky mountains above. At that time, I can’t think at all, I can only hold my breath, and I can’t move.
  The walkman’s rechargeable battery has run out, but I don’t feel any lack of music. Alternative music sounds are everywhere. The chirping of birds, the chirping of insects, the whispering of creeks, the whispering of leaves in the wind, the sound of footsteps moving on the roof, the movement of rain, and the inexplicable and indescribable sounds that come to my ears from time to time … The earth is full of so many fresh and wonderful sounds of nature, but in the past I didn’t realize it, and I have been turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to such an important phenomenon. I seemed to be making up for the loss of the past. I sat on the porch for a long time, closed my eyes, calmed down, and listened to the voices there.
  Drink a lot of tea, sit on a chair on the veranda and concentrate on reading a book. Watch it in front of the stove when it gets dark. Look at history, look at science, look at folklore, mythology, sociology, psychology, and Shakespeare. It is more time to read the key parts repeatedly than a book from the beginning to the end until it is mastered. Reading has a sense of reality, and I feel that all kinds of knowledge are being sucked into my body one by one. The shelves are stocked with all the books I want to read, and the food stock is more than enough, but I know very well: this is just a temporary stop for me. I will be out of here soon. The place was too serene, too natural, too perfect. And that can’t be given to me now. It’s too early—probably.

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