Hovering on the verge of mildly-mannered depression*, a verge I reached via my – passing, I hope – inability to wield my temporal life, body, mind and all the power they give, I decided to move more and took a longer route to my destination (is it true in your case too that when you sit or lie idly a whole swarm of demons keep turning up around your head? And when you walk briskly, dance or – recently quite rare in my case – work hard, you usually bump into one or two only).
I was walking alongside a large building that I must have passed a hundred times before and, for no particular reason, I suddenly turned my head leftwards, something which I had never done in that place before. I noticed a short alley that separated what I had always thought to be a solid, impenetrable (for short-cutting purposes) steel and glass structure. The alley opened for me a convenient, and quite exciting because of its newness, route. It looked encouraging: there was a lot of light at its end. I turned into the passage and noticed a sign with the name:
*don’t worry (or is it just a blog to you?) – it normally strangles only a day or two; a week at most; OK – sometimes a month. So I can live with that. But then again, you can do a lot of killing in a day. Speaking of which: soon there's more coming up about killing love, life and babies, unless I kill myself, that is (is it still just a bloody blog to you??** …)
I'd hate to do any irresponsible ecouragement, but I must say that in depressive or quasi-depressive states I used to find alcohol very helpful; as far as I can remember.
**kidding; sorry; not funny.
