A Collection of Microcosms

Art by: Julian Callos

I am collecting worlds.

Rolling them lazily around the spaces between my fingers, like marbles instead of the microcosms that they are. With a nonchalance that betrays ennui. And an ennui that hides authentic interest— layers, walls, one step away from the truth, always.

With these, I can make it rain even on the driest of days. I can turn life around, stop the orchestra and make it perform my own arrangement. All this when I am tucked away, away, in a small room. Inside a marble-sized world.

So which world will it be today?

A world of rainy days? A world of the upside down? A world of prairies and hills? A world of rooftops, of only the colour blue, of dawns and dusks, a world of too many moons and not enough stars, a world of lace and umbrellas, a world inside a snow globe, on the back of a postcard? Oh but what of the worlds of never-ending roads, or the ones of bookstores and libraries?

Drastically different though they are, they are all alike in one way: there’s never anyone in them.

I collect worlds. But never people.

People are messy. People mix colours you’ve tried hard to keep apart. They ruin skylines and solitude. People wreck your worlds.

But there, in these worlds, where nothing exists but itinerant thoughts, the slightest sound from the outside is a deafening roar.

So the only solution to escape is to go further inside, to lose yourself deeper and deeper into the streaks and striations of these marble-sized planets.

 

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Listening to:

Seeds and Ocean Blue

 

Not my actual hand *Anonymity breathes a sigh of relief*

Gif from: organicst.tumblr.com

These are seeds, just seeds, and yet why do I feel as though if I tossed them in the backyard, a whole ocean would grow from them?

In this concrete jungle of a neighbourhood, where grey houses and apartments sprout up from nowhere with their dust and drills, hiding the sky and clouds from view —imagine an ocean in the backyard. Imagine waking up to the gentle swoosh of the tide, the smell of salt, fresh and tingling your nostrils. But oh, every ocean has an ocean breeze, this cold spray that wets your skin, tickling the life  and laughter back into you.

And the adventures…imagine the adventures. Anything from treasure-seeking to unwinding in a fold-back chair, toes in the sand and a good book in hand. But there would also be a horizon, all oceans have them and, and the stars that glitter in the night, their light reflecting off the water that never stills. And the shells, the polished rocks, even the green, gooey algae, the —

Maybe it doesn’t have to be an ocean, maybe just the sea or a river. A brook or a rivulet. Even a leaky faucet or a can of seeds that are just the right shade of blue.

Right?

Don’t Overthink Happiness?

Illustration Source: http://weheartit.com/entry/206790878

Illustration Credits: Artist Sadly Unknown

“I have created many worlds inside my head,” she said. “and retreating into them has at times been simply pleasant and at others necessary—vital. But none have ever been this bridge between dreams and reality. I was always either rooted to the ground, or flying away with nothing to hold me back. It was never a smooth transition, and it was always one world or the other. And all my life, I have been looking for that world, and then you spring out of nowhere and just…pull out the thing I have most been yearning for out of your pocket.”

She bit her lip then, frowning a little.

“Life is strange. It seems almost too easy now.”

“You are happy,” he smiled. “And by the time you’re done worrying about happiness, it will have gone away already. So enjoy it.” he said, and kissed the top of her head.

He wanted to tell her that some kinds of happiness stay with you for a long time, for always sometimes, but he held the comment back, content in letting her ease into the world he had so readily opened to her for now.