Going to bed in wet clothes is not a good idea, I suppose. But I walk out despite the rain. A feeling is missing, it always has been. Searching for it in the rain isn’t helping either. A cup of tea perhaps? A penniless man on an endless road does not sound poetic. It sounds poor. It’s better than being aimless maybe.
I think you have to distance yourself from home sometimes, to be with yourself. Packing a bag didn’t cross my mind when I started my bike and rode off to stay at my friend’s (house). I couldn’t care less about bathing. Weather is a brazen liar, I tell you. This rain was unexpected and unwelcome.
It’s the emptiness that guided me into the open. A dizzying disquiet plagues my soul, driving me towards nowhere. Where am I going? The possibility of an answer scares me and ignorance kills me.
I guess I’ll go to bed.