I wonder if I am too immersed in a dreamworld of my own making. Swirled up within a mass of imagination, music, images, memories, sadness and excitement. Like my own little cave, hidden from all. It’s often a chaotic storm when I enter. Sometimes it takes me an annoyingly long time to sort everything out. But I nearly always find a little corner that’s exactly where I want to be. Slowly all becomes heavenly and peaceful. This is why I need time alone. This is also why I love to write, describing each little corner to the point where I suddenly wake up and worry I’ve gone too far.
I love it there.