When the fields are ploughed, white birds come looking for worms. They appear out of nowhere, and they sit in the fields pecking at the loose soil. Other birds circle above them or wait in a tree for their turn. This only happens when the fields are ploughed. There is a time and place for everything.
I have spent almost two years in a room with walls painted blue. It was the time for a brief hermitage. Days were spent reading, thinking, sitting still, doing nothing. It was the time for sitting still.
Now it feels like this time is coming to an end. Solitude has lost its ability to nourish and comfort. Now it is just depressing. The time to go back into the world is approaching. I need to prepare myself.