Sinister: I recall a bigger brighter world, a wold of books, of silent times in thought

[Dimitra]

Grant McLennan said that before I had the chance to think of it. So I just
listened to him sing it. And I loved it straight away, and it's been
haunting me since.
Actually, I think it has been haunting me even before that -a
bigger,brighter world. And whether it exists -and where does it exist. I've
been trying to get there -maybe I've always been trying to get there- but it
seems intangible. As if it exists only in books,songs and silent times in
thoughts. Not only in these, you might say, and we may make a list of things
where there are  fragments of this world. But it will only be fragments. I
want to live my life in it, but it always slips away. Are days that are not
experienced up to the point of perfectness they promise lost? Should I
consider them lost? Saturdays like this one, sunny,the streets of the city
crowded by people looking slightly happier than usual, more content. When
you live the house to go shopping but you skip it and have sit in a cafe
instead. Then walk past the most beautiful spot of the city on the way to
the supermarket. Where you stare at the variety of colours and shapes and
forget what you wanted to buy. Then you head up again. Back to the house,
you meet up with others -more or less grumpy,but almost  always so- who have
spend their day in similar ways. You say goodbye to your friend, and you
wonder once more if you should wonder once more why he can't be happy. Why
even when you're sitting on a bench under the lovely afternoon sun he's
thinking that he's unlovable. You opt not to wonder, then you wonder
nonetheless. You feel tired but you can't sleep -it's from all that coffee.
Still, you avoid studying. The day slowly fades while you lie in your bed
trying to cling on to its magic. But Saturday evenings and nights are
depressing, at least for me they are. From that point on thoughts get
confused, thoughts of making love in the afternoon -do I remember that or do
I imagine it?- and memories of nights out that felt wrong no matter what you
did. When my dad comes and turns on the tv, shall I hide in my room? Is
there something more depressing than the noise the television makes when
someone else is watching it? But isn't staying in your room just too...
I want to take that bigger brighter world *out* of the books and into my
life; and from there, out of the silent times and into the moments I share
with people.
'I recall a bigger brighter world/A world of books/of silent times in
thought...'
The next line is just perfect.
'...and then the railroad,the railroad takes you home'.
Keep on recalling it, or dreaming of it,
Dimitra

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