forty-two thousand feet.

There’s something so fickle about a feeling; ever fleeting, one moment it’s there, another gone. I am an adventurer, exploring foreign lands, exploring foreign planes, searching. A curious searching, one different to all those prior. A search akin to what an eye subconsciously seeks in the lazy space of a painting. This search, like all searches, lifts me up into the atmosphere; forty-two thousand feet above. I’m above the clouds lost in a familiar feeling. Why do these adventurers consume me so? Am I destined to be the one who wonders?

 

Hong Kong. Lost. I’m walking about, lost in a haze. Symbols reveal their shallow nature as I move past, unable to decipher them completely. I can sometimes understand what they mean, for some things are universal. But most things do not offer me such luxury. A luxury to be afforded; something earned through the fire and brimstone of repetition. Do you know the feeling of reaching to grasp, only to fall within an inch? This is a central theme of Human experience, colouring me a faded hue. Blue, blue, all because of you. I’m the shade of your favourite colour, I’m the shape of your favourite mood; I feel as if I compliment you.

 

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