The day is done and yet it continues on. It shifts in colour as light disappears and soon it will be colourless in some spaces. In others there will be some sort of light still around and colour will gather there, hoping to stay around long enough to survive until the morning.

It’s in here too and there is something harsh about its dullness that I can’t quite put my finger on, but I don’t necessarily find it unpleasant. I find the light in this room more unpleasant, but that’s another story for another time, if there is indeed ever another time where I decide that a good topic of discussion would be to discuss the light in this bedroom.

Well, now that I have all of that out of the way I have to wonder as to how time twists around this space and seems to hold everything in a stillness. It all remains still and silent and motionless and yet it all changes. The room and the space is the same but things move around and change and it is always the same, but it never is. Throughout time it becomes a container of memories and emotions and thoughts and discussion, and it becomes a place of stress and pressure and relief and freedom.

Maybe there’s something there to follow but it’s not for me to follow right now. Right now I just sit here and I hope I get to the end of the day with enough things out of the way. I don’t know at what point enough will truly be enough but I keep on trying. I keep on going and hoping and hopefully once I get to the end of it all I’ll be right where I want to be in terms of things done. They will be added to my experience and I’ll have had my fill in exactly the amount I wanted, and if that does indeed happen then perhaps that is the problem, because getting something done is often enough, but it can be easy to tell oneself that it wasn’t.

Writing this gets in the way but it also doesn’t as there’s not much to deal with today and perhaps that is a good thing. The need is to remain busy and the tasks are there and they will take longer than the light in the sky will take to fade, but hopefully they don’t take too much longer. There needs to be time to rest so as to experience time in a different way. There needs to be time for moving and motion and stillness and silence and all that stuff, and there needs to be time to pause and step away from everything, and it needs to be in balance so that when the light in here goes off and all the colour disappears there is rest and respite and so waking up tomorrow does not feel like waking up into the beginning of a series of ordeals.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:59:17

Fast but I think some of this doesn’t fit with most of what I’ve written.

Written at home.