Abstract

There is a restless feeling in the air and I can’t settle down. The couches embrace me, but after a while, I begin to feel stuffy. I take of my shoes but that doesn’t stop me from impatiently pacing the house. The pool is calling me, but if I swim I’ll be all alone and I’m just getting used to society. I want to eat but I’m not hungry…is there a difference? It’s too hot to wear jackets, but she does, anyway. The dog is happy as long as you throw his toy: I wish I were that way. I want to make music but I’m out of practice: my violin is crying. How do teachers teach? It’s such a demanding and draining job. The floor looks at me from the corners of it’s eyes: I squirm above it’s merciless gaze. The library needs more books. Quiet talking is everywhere: whispers seem to expand and fill the air. If I look at nothing, so many things pop out at me. If I am, what am I not? If I am, how can I be? How does silence scream so loudly I can hardly bear not to think? Why does white feel so sterile and cold, while black is so warm and comforting? Which is the right choice?