It's Sunday and a breezy air slowly embraces Chicago. I'm off from work but yet Sunday came with it's own burden. Thoughts lingering inside my head kept distracting my mood, leading it to be upset. But on a Sunday nothing lead anywhere. I woke up in a good mood and the very day started to stiffen my senses as i went out side and met the new air of that is reminding us fall is coming. It's telling us to acknowledge the unsurprisingly cold comfort of fall. My thoughts started to scatter like the fallen yellow leaves pleasantly pushed by the wind of my uneasiness. With out a clue as to why, I kept getting irritated by the very thought of the shift that is surrounding me. I tend to accept my surrounding as the cause for this seamless change of character within me. I blame the day itself for the shift that's not directed in any way.
Friends and families of me are in their own world. some are near within the reach of a bus stop while some are across an Atlantic and deep in the wild black continent. They are fluctuating with in their own orbits and calculatingly returning back to where they should be. In some sense or another. Some are sad while others are smiling. I'm in Chicago, outdoor in the streets with falling leaves; and houses with brownish fade surrounding them. I plan to meet a friend today, not right away though, at least not until late in to the afternoon.
Quite oddly I'm off and its Sunday.
I mean, a line cook like me never gets an off on a Sunday. So a day off quite simply becomes out of place and as the day slowly moves on, uncomfortable. I feel slightly cold from the wind that embraces Chicago like an old friend who's ever presence is never welcome enough. I keep getting lost in wondering thoughts. I run in the boundaries of thoughts seeking answers that raised questions which not only where responsible for me to think my reasons for thinking where incorrectly guided. mistakes...why is it so silent, Yesterday was a bad mistake... my actions were uncorrectable... Tomorrow I'll have to go to work... that's inevitable. I'm about to be hit with a very bad headache ... it's lurks and slowly creeps in with the revolving thoughts. It's about time; I have to stop. "Step out of it-Biruk!" I told myself. I took a deep breath. It can only go down from here unless i distract my self with an adventure. What a better day to grant one with an adventure that brings me hopefully ... a certain self composure or a serene but distracted clam than a Sunday afternoon meeting a good fried over an Ethiopian coffee.
Friends and families of me are in their own world. some are near within the reach of a bus stop while some are across an Atlantic and deep in the wild black continent. They are fluctuating with in their own orbits and calculatingly returning back to where they should be. In some sense or another. Some are sad while others are smiling. I'm in Chicago, outdoor in the streets with falling leaves; and houses with brownish fade surrounding them. I plan to meet a friend today, not right away though, at least not until late in to the afternoon.
Quite oddly I'm off and its Sunday.
I mean, a line cook like me never gets an off on a Sunday. So a day off quite simply becomes out of place and as the day slowly moves on, uncomfortable. I feel slightly cold from the wind that embraces Chicago like an old friend who's ever presence is never welcome enough. I keep getting lost in wondering thoughts. I run in the boundaries of thoughts seeking answers that raised questions which not only where responsible for me to think my reasons for thinking where incorrectly guided. mistakes...why is it so silent, Yesterday was a bad mistake... my actions were uncorrectable... Tomorrow I'll have to go to work... that's inevitable. I'm about to be hit with a very bad headache ... it's lurks and slowly creeps in with the revolving thoughts. It's about time; I have to stop. "Step out of it-Biruk!" I told myself. I took a deep breath. It can only go down from here unless i distract my self with an adventure. What a better day to grant one with an adventure that brings me hopefully ... a certain self composure or a serene but distracted clam than a Sunday afternoon meeting a good fried over an Ethiopian coffee.
