There are times when my mind feels like a dried up withered old stick - I scratch around for thoughts, but all that I can find is empty cracks and meaningless echoes. This is one of those times. At other moments my mind resembles a clear spring, or a dark tropical rainforest burgeoning with life. It shifts between stages sometimes gradually, sometimes swiftly, always imperceptibly. I'm not sure if all of these states are natural or not - I do know that there are pros and cons to each of them. The 'withered-stick' mode seems, at first glance anyway, to have less benefits than the others - but what it does afford is a (relatively) bone-clean clinically disinterested view of the world. Not a good place to live (you'd starve) but a valuable place to drop by once in a while. It strips away layers of varnish and paint to reveal the mottled, but genuine, wood. If people stay there they become twisted cynics; if they refuse to vist they evolve into null-brained romantics or fanatics.
Some people reading this won't have a clue what I'm talking about, and will be clicking their tongues and saying Yep, he's done it this time. He's gone right over. That's okay. Just think about it for a wee while, and you might get it. But some will have been there, and known it, and will know from experience that it's not the most pleasant place to be (in fact, pleasant would be one word you could not apply to it) but as the Good Book says, "There is a time for everything".
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