Unwashed And Somewhat Slightly Dazed

Tuesday morning-ish. Sunny, after weeks of consistent sun. The ambience is low-key agreeable. A bit sweltering with my head against the train window. Just my tshirt: no jacket, no backpack. Earbuds. A past version of me made sure I would listen to Bowie today. After weeks, I’m finally in the mood: not quite enough sleep to be fully functional, a hangover leaning on the strange side of pain, and a desire to launch myself in space.

Bowie is simply perfect right now. Catchy enough to drag me along. Loud. Comitted. Happily weird. The world is blue. And there’s nothing I can do. Though I crossed one hundred thousand miles…

(26/365)