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Thought Pantry

 


We went for a walk this afternoon. Ever since lockdown we all have to walk, every day, rain or shine. The solution to world obesity may be the enforcement of the law of 3 mandatory big meals every day, followed by dessert.

Walking is supposed to clear your head. Mine start with an idea, a mere possibility to entertain the imagination. Soon it spirals out of control; the threats become realities and the arguments between me & the people in my head get so serious the next day I can't stand their physical actual presence. 

The inside of my Thought Quarters is like a carefully organised pantry: Shelves full of small colourless jars each containing a small glass cylinder filled with a thought, usually in various shades of tinted grey. There's quite a wide range: yellowish betrayals, grey demotions, upcoming failures in shades of dusty burgundy, potential deaths and losses all in blacks of various strength, rows and rows of conspiracy theories in foggy midnight blue, a few dusty ones in the lower shelves from years ago in shades of dirty pink concerning romantic dramas and reproduction. I don't visit these any more. They've been literally shelved. There are no brightly coloured cylinders. Except for a couple of red & yellow ones in the left hand side corner labelled "What to make for dinner, New cookie recipe & Cakes".

I ask my lockdown bubble buddy what his happy thoughts are, just to get an idea. He mentions a new software he's found and learning to code..., nothing that tingles interest. I go back to my pantry with this awfully long face you get when you realize there are only sprouting onions and dry chickpeas for dinner.

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