I love this time of year. The cold does something to me, it unlocks memories deep down that I had forgotten all about, or never knew they existed, and I feel them all over again. Good memories. It is the cold, and the smell of the cold. It is the smell of moisture and burning fires in fire places. And there are the great billowy clouds of many shades. The greys, the blacks, the whites, all towering high above, landscapes in their own right. It is also the time of year when the darkness comes. But we won't talk about that.
Is there a time of year that unlocks your memories? Do you step outside and feel something against your skin? And smell something that brings back everything in startling detail? Yeah, probably. Probably.
The cold makes me think of the vast and the profound, while the warmth makes me think of the closeness and the lazy affection.
But they are not just thoughts. They are whole states of being, inexplainable with the human tongue, or the human alphabet. Or anything else apart from a direct stream of consciouness. Because being does not come in twos, or threes, but only one. Each being is one. And that one has a world only they can live in.
What if we could share it? What kind of contrapition would that take? Would you really want to share with someone else? Would you want to think with them? As them?
