I have decided to read more poetry again.
Not only because of the poems per se, not only to enjoy their beauty. For me, this is a conscious decision to take a break. A break from thinking, time for emotion. And it just feels good to read beautiful words.
There are days that seem bleak, through and through, without any positivity in them. Grey days with news of terrorism, wave after wave of bad tidings closing in on me, pouring down on me like a hailstorm. I just can’t take it these days.
Correction: I don’t want to take it anymore.
Why do people enjoy watching cute animal videos? Because they speak of a lost innocence. They provide an anchor in our fucked up world.
The sun is shining, and as egoistic as it may sound, I need a break. I do not want to worry and be afraid all the time.
I long for a little bit of peace in a world in which peace has become scarce.
Did poets use to feel like that, back in the day?
Was the world a better place back then, or did they also write to find solace in their art?
Did they sit in the sun like me, forgetting for a moment how rough this world is? Was their art an attempt to be seduced by the beauty of nature?