To not think or feel. As an escape, as detachment.
The desperate scream of a fire truck’s siren, the sigh of a leave falling from a tree, the steam wafting from a hot cup of coffee. There are stories and emotions behind everything that happens around us. People. Objects. Feelings have no name. Yet it is so much easier to ignore them, to stand back outside the circle of their influence.
Extreme measures to make these feelings come to the surface. The pain of fist smashing through glass, the haze induced by alcohol, by drugs, by sex. Searching. Escaping.
Are colours feelings? Can cats read auras? What does it mean to be a human being?
It’s nearly sunset, look at the orange sky.