Of cloud castles and houses of cards

How is it that the darkest dark and brightest light can so easily cohabit the same frame? Oh, I know how. I just wish sometimes that they wouldn't, that's all.

It's been a rather strange couple of weeks. Nothing I can quite put a finger on, just this feeling that I might have misplaced something in this while. Some part of me that makes sense of things effortlessly. I think. 

Or it might just be the travelling, and the waiting. The hiding behind the edges of conversations I don't want to have, with people I don't really know. And people who, I suspect, despite their every claim to the contrary, don't really know me.

Once every so often, I have these flashes of unwanted lucidity. A distinct image of myself from some long gone moment, complete with all those hopes, wishes, worries even. Of late the contrast between then and now seems sharper. And I wonder, does it matter, that who we hope to one day become as a wide-eyed (or squinting, or glaring, or whatever) kid and who we do eventually end up growing into should be so at odds? Most days I shake off the thought by blaming the naivety of youth :).

Well, I did finally finish with Notes on a Small Island! But now I find there's not a single encompassing idea I have formed about it. Which is not surprising, seeing how I kept bouncing through other books in between, stopped reading for prolonged periods and otherwise butchered the experience :). Although, I must say, sometimes Bryson seems positively rude! No? He's always good for a few laughs though.

Also, Chicane rocks. More to the point, he continues to...

Currently: uncertain, again
Listening to: Chicane - Thousand mile stare