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I find myself in the storm drains again. Almost unwillingly, I succumb to the usual urge of the converging lines and am pulled into a lone walk. At the circular mouth of the large concrete hall I chose, the path ends in a sheer drop. In this bottomless cubic room, two more pipes emerge on the opposite side pouring their questionable content into the violent throat bellow. As the flows meet they clash into a spiraling torrent before being engulfed into a nightmarish pit.
Loneliness scares you because it forces though. It tears through the veil of comforting distraction only to leave you naked in the face of meaningless reality. We think of our social nature as a product of our deep consciousness. Yet the latter would suffer in the absence of the relieving social distraction. If consciousness lives better within the confines of artificial complication then it is overwhelmed in the void of isolation and blind in the light of detachment.
Nothing could ever come back out of there I thought. Nothing would even be alive long enough to try. I took a couple steps back from the precipice to set up my tripod and capture, as best I could, the humbling monstrosity.
