Winter had scarred us, cold and harsh conditions made us seem like ghostlike creatures. Away from the sun, lit up only by the fire that we light.

I am ready for loading up on the rays of this continuously exploding ball of gas in the sky.

I linger around, waiting for the shine to light me up. I am almost invisible to take naked eye, translucent and not recognisable by everyone that knows my appearance in summer.

So here I stand, looking into the clouds, looking out for my dangerous friend in the sky.

Come light me up.

Punch towards the body, going through. Hah, I don’t have a body!

I am getting massaged. Not just externally but all throughout. My mind is wandering off and I keep my eyes closed. The hormonal system kicks in and bliss is filling the warm air around me.

I am punching into the air. Involuntary contractions of my muscles that react to the waves of sound. I am surrounded by ecstatic people and flashing lights.

Distortion helps you see clearly. My focal point is vanishing, I am lost in the bed of light and bass.

I punch. I let go of whatever held me back.

I punch. I have become semipermeable, letting out, not letting in.

I punch, in peace.

Yes, no, deductive reasoning.

Options put us at crossroads, giving freedom for the brave and anxiety to the scared. Which one are you?

I haven’t decided myself but the fridge of opportunities is filled when you are less than a thousand years old. For metaphysical entities, I am in my twenties. Time to try and be stupid.

When you are following this winding road, you sometimes come across ideas that seem stupid but in the end, they come out great. Just like cooking a new dish with that one weird ingredient, that completely blows your mind.

So while following this weird way, go have a look at the fridge. Maybe there is something weird you picked up some time ago that will change and revolutionise your dish.

And if you find someone meandering, go ahead, greet them. Maybe you will be their weird ingredient.

The interior rumbles, one moment, sweet release.

Sometimes it is just about losing something that makes the heart grow fonder. Luckily, as a metaphysical entity, I am easily pleased. So fondness grows in a puddle as much as it does dissolve in an ocean. So when I am sitting back in that puddle, undoubtedly, I will be content.

Sometimes I am losing that puddle, so I sit dry. Oh how I miss the days of having a cool bottom in all the heat of my food stall. So I sweat, I exercise, I fight the drops attacking my eyes.

I know how it is, working with spices. I am trying to dish something that tickles your brain. Most likely, you will dismiss it as something that will pass, something that is strange. Just like a new cuisine. Same as your tongue, your brain will get used to it.

So I am staying in the stall, hot, sweaty, spicy. Until you see the sweat on me. A water? Yes!

I pour it on my seat.

Thank you, I am in the puddle.

In balance, rebooted.