A repetitious revival. 

I have noticed that sometimes spending just a few minutes under the sun can make a discernible conscious variation of who I become when held in an enclosed space for what feels like an eternity; although in reality eternity is just night and day passing over. 

I have found myself to be stimulated by the external silence inside that house, perhaps that is why my moments with nature feel like a repetitious revival of myself when the room I inhabit becomes too shattering, although the shatter is the cognitive reminder that I am not yet awakened in my physical body.

Along the trail, I was reminded of my night at the beach as I began to see shadows of people walking in my direction. As the shadows became bigger, I knew they were getting closer. I stopped for a moment to wait for them to pass. The silence that lured me in was suddenly disrupted by their soft mumble. I have always found it to be interesting how people can capture one’s spirit by their reflected desire to be interconnected with one another. How strong their character is when they effortlessly interlace with the world, through the obscure and the discomforting; all the events that are endured.