Centre of the Lost World

Art by: Phazed

I’ve missed watching the world go round ever since I started working. These days, I’m the one always going around in an orbit, traveling up and down, across the country. I’m the one taming these rocky roads in air-conditioned buses, from morning til the sun sets.

I’ve been bustling around, always going somewhere, not taking enough time to notice how it is I’m getting there. I’ve been so caught up in my bubble, my little snowglobe of a life to realise that there’s something bigger out there. It’s a particular brand of narcissism, self-centredness. You never realise it’s taking place. It just unravels, and you are unaware.

Then, life happened, as it always does.

For a little while, for a little while, the bus broke down. The air conditioner fell apart, the cold air collapsing under the heat of the outdoors that was quickly spreading.

Imagine a tiny wooden figure, carved and paint peeling, emerging from a snowglobe, tottering around, toppling over into the heat, dwarfed by the blades of grass rustling overhead. That is what I imagine I must have looked like. Tiny, and a little wooden, at first lost, then in awe and fear of the sheer grandeur of this world. There really was nothing around, too. No buildings, no houses. The trees alone towered, as they must have so long ago. And the fields grew on one side of the crackled concrete to the other, showering the hot asphalt in small blooms smeared with powdery pollen.

The grass was quietly growing, soaking up the sun and the richness of the earth. And just like that, it was overtaking the place, making the small bus shelter look like something out of a dollhouse when compared to the rest of the scene. The grass grew, ignoring civilisation, uncaring of concrete. It just grew. It is all it knows how to do.

Quietly, quietly, I lowered myself onto the ground, peered into the unencumbered sky that seemed freckled in stars and deep, like the ocean. I watched the grass grow for a little while, thinking that it might overtake me too. Someday it will, someday.

But not now, I thought. Now, I live. Now it is time for me to watch the world go round, to stay still and let all things live and move and die and regrow. It is my time to appreciate, to contemplate life.

And if I left feeling more mellowed out, as though I had melted slightly under the sun, if I left feeling less wooden, my movements swifter, if I left, taller than the grass that surrounded me, I never really noticed.


Note: It has…been a while. But I’ve had the flu, so it’s been a little complicated. I hope all you lovely people have been doing well though! I should probably be resuming ‘normal’ posting this week 🙂


8 thoughts on “Centre of the Lost World”

  1. I really loved the tone and how multifaceted the single interpretations of this piece can be.
    Upon reflection, I think the central point in it is the movement concerning the “tiny wooden figure”, which entwines the outer world – sometimes too grand, even in its seemingly most recurrent phenomena, to ever be thought fathomable – with the inner, the personal; it is kind of like teetering on that liminal space between two (hypothetical) physical worlds, hence two journeys of the mind.
    Thank you for posting, keep writing, I’ll be really glad to read! 😄

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ah, you make me see things I’m not sure I even (consciously) wrote. Thank you, Ludovica 🙂 Although I did mean it to be a sort of ‘two worlds colliding’ image, the way you write it makes me think I could have gone further with the idea. Thank you for the insightful comment, I really appreciate it ❤


      1. Wow, thanks! (By the way excuse that long comment😅)
        Most of all, I thank you for your posts, which are always beautifully written and never fail to give constructive food for thought!!

        Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh wow, thank you Kait! I’m glad it resonated ❤ Also, I've been away a little while so I'm really looking forward to keeping myself up to date with your latest posts 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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