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Alida: A 23-year-old Canadian exploring the infinite abyss that is New York City.

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recent posts

Uncle Richard, me, and James Earl Jones - Tuesday, Apr. 04, 2006
So beautiful when the boy smiles - Sunday, Apr. 02, 2006
One way or another - Sunday, Dec. 25, 2005
Way up high - Saturday, Dec. 10, 2005
Reason to start over new - Friday, Dec. 09, 2005

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2004: January February March April May June July August September October November December
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The setting is oddly inspiring: a small round table in a crowded coffee shop in an unfamiliar city on a Tuesday night. Jars of Clay is playing over the speakers, there are chattering voices all around me, and students studying for finals, books and papers spread out over their tables.

I sit with my book and my coffee, my jacket draped over my shoulders, my backpack beside me, and I feel oddly at peace. Alone in this crowd of isolation, and happy to be here. Content to be anonymous and invisible, happy to be left with not even my thoughts.

All I really needed was to get away; to have the time to myself to forget about everything and let myself be free of all of it.

Yet, sitting in this, in this place on unusual inspiration, I have nothing to write. I have no words, only thoughts, only this tiny piece of freedom which has been eluding me for so long.

An hour later, the room quiets. There are now only three conversations surrounding me, and the cd has been changed several times. I still sit, my coffee long gone, my book much closer to being finished. My soul still is quiet; my mind is at reast, and regardless of whatever else happens, I thank God for the gift of this night.

Another hour passes. The coffee shop is now empty, save the employees cleaning. The music is much louder, and all conversations have long since ceased. Within minutes, the lights go out, the music is turned off, and I put my book into my backpack in this silent room and head out the door, back into the real world, but I have been in my sanctuary tonight.
infinite || abyss