The world is quiet where I am right now. My round paper lantern is shining like a shoddy movie-screen moon over my little table, casting light on all the scattered objects across the dark brown wood. Glass bottle, stack of old journals (scribbled words to the edges of pages), bag of chocolate-covered espresso beans (dark chocolate, of course), computer... I'm typing quietly. My large green headphones cover my ears, but no sound is playing. They merely serve to silence what buzz there might otherwise be. Curtain, open. Beyond, dim glow of an orange hall light. Beyond, black inky darkness of the campus and its trees. Occasionally people walk past, mouths shaping words I can't hear. I'm removed. A siren wails in the distance.
It's times like this when I want to get up and go. Grab a bag, stuff in headphones, music, extra shirt, money, and go. Take the spare car keys from the colorful bowl in the living room (loopy purple patterns encircling the glint that means nighttime freedom) and run out the door into the humid summer night. I'd like to drive forever down empty roads, stop in lonesome truck stops and accompany the drivers in the cracked concrete of the parking lot as they dreamt during the few hours they had of rest. And then move on and on and on... I don't know if I could stop.
That's all that's in my head right now, really.
And this is how my pink flamingo views the world. What a bright world he lives in.
Sara
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