It's dark outside. It nearly always is but I never fail to notice it. I like the night. It's a wonderful travelling companion on this, my long and lonesome mission.
Taking what few provisions I'll need, I step cautiously out from the warmth and safety of my home into the orange-painted wilderness. I must travel light, I cannot afford to be hindered as a foul mumbling, a meaningless gibber emanates from somewhere beyond my field of vision; that constant reminder of how fragile I am in this environment, a stranger in a strange land. I pay the sound no heed, I only pray that I never have to meet its source. I quickly cross the inky black moat surrounding my home and board my ever trusty vessel, a perfect vision in cornflower blue. Only it can afford me safe passage through the ceaseless ebony ocean.
Quickly I depart from the orange wastes into the light country. I know not of where the lights lead, only that they pick out countless routes, surely hundreds of winding paths. Each one important to someone but of no use to me for to deviate from my path is to become forever lost in an endless expanse, to travel to the furthest reaches of the black ocean and never to return. Seldom do I travel to the heart of the ocean, never deliberately, and rarely do I return the same man as I left.
As I travel to the end of light country, a noble kingdom opens before me. Endless, sweeping landscapes covered in tiny pinpricks of light, the most perfect and splendid areas of the land I have left behind. I have yet to visit them and I do not wish to do so. I have but one goal in mind, to travel to the heart of this kingdom and steal from it its one and only worthy treasure, the princess of this land. Locals are ever watchful from all angles but they do not suspect my intentions, they merely watch or ignore this newcomer. He is of little interest.
I arrive at the gates to my princess' stronghold, but they offer little resistance.
And then yeah, I usually get back in my car and drive home down the 62 towards my flat. I'm usually kind of tired after that trip.
Wednesday, 17 March 2010
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