I was asked recently when can I last recall, in my opinion, the perfect day.
One morning, I woke up and decided I need to do something different for the day, something to feel like I got lost in the world around me, just for a day.
So I went to the waterfront, hopped on a faerie, and went over to Robin Island. Climbed straight onto a little bus that went into the 'town' on the island. walked past the old little houses, removed my shoes and walked onto the beach. The sand is so white there and the water is crystal clear. I walked for a bit before sitting on the sand with the huge Table Mountain spread out in front of me, hugging the city. I sparked a joint because that is what I like to do and with every puff it felt like the scenery was was filling my lungs gradually, until it consumed me, the shear beauty of the Mother City.
Without anyone to please, or do something for, or hold back a tear out of courtesy for, or even try make a joke just to fill the empty space of silence, I could relax. My one priority was making sure that I was happy. With my feet in the white sand, I was.
It's not the idea that no one knows where I am that is so appealing but rather the fact that I don't have to explain how I am feeling to death. The solitude gives me time to rationalize how I am feeling, or at least try to understand why I feel the way I do. A man that feels so much needs to break the feelings apart like ingredients in a cake, and understand the importance of each and every little ingredient and why it is important for the cake.
But that cake still needs icing... so, I got my sad and lean little body off of the sand, back to a bus, back to the faerie and back to the harbor. In my new home preparing a beautiful dinner for my icing, as I wait for him to return from work.