Another evening floats on away into a distance that is difficult to perceive. It’s there, but it’s long away. It’s beyond reach, or something. I don’t know. Something along those lines.

I wonder about wandering, and I wonder about how soon until I sleep. I’m waiting for a battery to charge. Very exciting. It’s what’s happening right now.

Maybe the battery will finish charging sooner rather than later. I hope that it does. I want to sleep. I want to rest. I want to find my way under the sheets and I want to sleep soundly, and let a calm wash over me. I want to feel the heaviness and I want to feel myself drift off into dreams of various pleasantries, but I fear I will be waiting for a while.

Maybe I won’t. Maybe the battery will be fully charged sooner rather than later. Maybe that will happen and then I can sleep, and I can drift away and float along and become like the flow of time. I can become imperceptible until focused upon, and I can become infinite and finite at the same time, and I can become stretched eternally and fill everything.

Maybe I’m thinking beyond anything that is necessary. What is necessary is my need for sleep, and what I need to do is get some sleep. I need to rest so I can wake up tomorrow and feel rested. I need to rest so I can continue on and push through various forms of fatigue and pain, and so I can take some photos. I don’t want to take too many photos; just some. Some will suffice… but for how long? Will some be enough? Will some be enough to match my heavy dreams that I will have when I go to sleep?

What if my dreams lack that heaviness? What if my sleep is fitful and I do not feel rested in the morning? What am I to do then? I don’t know, but I imagine it will be something along the lines of accepting my poor sleep and getting on with the day. But I don’t want to. I would rather rebel against the idea.

The only way to do so, really, is to have a nice sleep. That way I can then feel rested in the morning where I will move through time and space and become as eternal as I would be limited, and I can take some photos and then go from there. The photos will form a narrative surrounding structures and all those things that are as exciting as they are dull, and I will get on with whatever it is that I need to get on with.

I will eventually find my way home, and it will be a trek but I’ll get there. I’ll get there one way or the other, and through that journey I will stare into nothingness and wonder about how much of my thoughts are full, and how much are empty.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:57:62

So I hurt my foot earlier today. Strained something. Sucks.

Anyway, this bit of writing feels a bit too scattered. Not sure if it is, or is not.

Written at home.