#0149. The secret place befuddles us because it is such an alien endeavor. I feel like such an alien every day. Foreign and displaced and lost among the skipping and frolicking masses all lemming lined to the nearest port of oblivion. The secret place merges our features and speaks to us from the outside in. No, from the middle out and the middle in. Somewhere in between our dreams and our conscious thoughts. It is a tangle of nightmare faces shouting mundane words. You feel muddied and deafened by it. It slips through your fingers and leaves a sour metal taste in your eyes.
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