A Shattered Consciousness

I consume some films, ones that I feel require attention, often as I can in an altered state. I don’t do drugs, not illegal ones anyway, so my method is late, late nights and caffeine. The subsequent result is a feeling of disconnect with the world and that loosened mooring joins more readily to the flashing lights and quiet sounds on the television. The darkness outside helps too, no singing birds or rejuvenating sun. My mind on edge, I’ve been here before, eager to see the dawn one moment and determined to crawl into bed the next. These are the nights that I remember, these are the moments that cling on and won’t get go. To read a book as the sun rises and this frail world spins and that little thread that binds concerns disappears is, to put it simply, magical.

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