Picked up a sandwich after work and ate it in bed upon returning home. It wasn’t the greatest of sandwiches, but it filled my belly and gave me enough energy to write before I burned out and caught an hour’s nap. There were dreams. Dreams of the pub I once worked in, and of the two cats that belonged to an ex-girlfriend. I think one of them is dead now, which is a shame, because when animals die the colours of the world diminish that little bit more. Just before I woke, there was something to do with X, and her old room. The mess it always used to be in. The clothes scattered across the floor. The empty Coke cans, and the pile of train tickets next to her TV. When I came to, my own room was dark and her words were still ringing in my ears. After lighting a smoke and looking out the window at the darkening town, I wondered to myself if there really are such things as wormholes, and if you were to go through one, just where and when would you find yourself? Would I be back in her room, or would I be at the edge of time just hanging around waving at ghosts, those ghosts that do nothing other than drift because drifting is all there is to do when you’re nothing but dust? The sky says so little and so much. It speaks and yet so few ever listen, and even when they do, they misunderstand the meaning behind the words completely. Went on Wikipedia and read more about pulsars. And then exoplanets and where to find them. And then I listened to some Joanna Newsom and imagined myself flying through strange skies with no need or desire for human contact. It was a nice feeling to taste such freedom, and for a few moments, a sense of calm engulfed my soul that left me not caring about anything other than the delicate nature of my spiritual journey through the sea of shit known as the hand of man. Closing my eyes, I saw her delicate face and a garden of animals. The animals were dancing around her, and as she sang to them, my feet left the ground, and I was at one with everything, from her soul to the souls of all the animals, and of all those that have gone before who now travel without having to ask the reasons why.