All of the sudden you had felt a sheet of snow cover your entire life. A deep quiet. Time moving slower. A condensing for ideals to become rooted in something real. The fastest feeling is just that it feels good and that at the end of the day to not have finished everything you wanted to do still feels mythic, a clouded mountaintop. So you wake up again the next day and dig/drink from the well contented, hard-pressed to leave creative space. In the stilling something is percolating, thick drip… & even then in the thick of it there are still little radio towers beaming out from different points in the expanse of winter sleep. Sometimes instead of traveling up they are burrowing into the earth.
(Image: Jati Putra Pratama)