For some crazy reason, I began to analize my apartment by standing in the middle of my living room, and seeing how quiet and peaceful this place could be when I wanted it to be. It was simple and to the point, and I liked it that way. With peaceful simplicity, far from what goes on in there, you would never think it was a haven for visitors, a place for them to pay and play, a palace for short lived dreams that came true, then end within hours from their beginning. So what was so bad that I needed to get back to my dream?
I would look around in apt. 9, and gaze at it's every being. Slowly turning and looking at every piece of everything there. The furniture, the t.v., the light pinkish walls, and the few pictures that hung on them. All I could see was black and white and and I liked it that way. My life wasn't colorful, it was anything but, although most anyone would think just the opposite. I have a yearn for what I do, and I as yet can't figure out why I'm ok with it. So I continue to look all around me, liking what I see, and yet with what I allow to go on inside here, who I allow to enter, it was yet a haven for me as well as my visitors that felt comforting with no one there but myself. All alone. Plain and simple. At that very moment, there were no lies being told, no pretending, no open door, just me with peace that had come over me. Yet I needed my dream back. It was rarely in black and white. It was full of color that enchanted me, a world so different from mine that I needed at this very moment. So again I ask myself, if I was ok with my life and what I do, then what's the need for this dream? Perhaps an excape? But from what?
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