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When there are more welcoming wonders in the here and now

The lionized silence of that supplemental chamber in my head where I usually fancy to spend my time ruminating dictionaries and thesauruses to find words worthy enough to depict all outward impressions, suddenly seems less addictive when there are more welcoming wonders in the here and now, none of them to be missed but all to admire and deeply cherish because of its volatility, not just with my eyes but all of my senses. It’s like we just started a journey from rags to riches, never consciously been poor for even one second but in hindsight completely stranded, up until now cut off from that excess of his beauty, his muscles, his nails, his malleable soft head, filled with nothing but love, joy and genuine curiosity.

For an early riser like me, the strongest private emphasis lies hidden in the in between time, before everything and everybody wakens, before I wake up myself and start fusing with daily dominions. This stretch of slowly passing minutes is usually when I start writing thus having to now share that space might seem like a sacrifice, but far from it I feel it’s freeing me of a potential obsession. I doubt ‘get a puppy’ will make it to their list if you ask Google, Alexa, Siri or whoever is organizing your search needs for advice on getting your priorities straightened, but I assure you, it work’s like a charm.

Mec’s rest-activity circadian rhythm is immensely dictating, but also candidly elucidating how I’ve come to ignore this natural law once again, making rest and rhythm into final elements always subordinate to the issues of the day, when I could have known so much better: a strict schedule of rest, rhythm and regularity, written down in detail, once proved to be my only possible return to normal from the long-lasting and paralyzing burnout I had maneuvered myself into.

I’m never that tired anymore and despite all novelties, Mec slept through the night just fine, yet I find myself in bed still this morning, playing his plays, napping his naps, snoring his snores, doubtlessly dreaming his dreams, retrieving the same lionized silence but in a totally newfangled chamber, with him right there next to me. It’s foggy outside anyway today.


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