Blushing is the sign of a noble heart.
As the winds of change carry me back to where some part of me was lost, I openly embrace my inner Prince Myshkin. Coming back to the place that carries so much memories and enchants me repeatingly, I open my mind and shut my mouth. Overwhelmed I strut along the paths I have walked so many times before. Inebriated, infatuated, idiotic.
Now for some of you that know dear Papa Shanghai and have followed along the paths of useless wisdom, these are no news. You can probably guess where I have taken shelter for a limited time. But this is more than a Dacha, it is an ever-changing tune that continues to resonate.
As the author that wrote the inspiration for the state of this week did, I write hurringly. Clustered and mysterious, I myself do not know what my personal Prince Myshkin is doing this week.
Bystanders see me smile, standing amid the masses, looking up. Stamped idiotic, perceived as naive. But I am too busy to listen to these interpretations, I am searching for the parts that are somewhere hidden in this place. Doing so, I do not even realise that I am losing tiny bits again. And so it goes.
I inspect myself in this giant mirror, as I did many times before. The place has not changed, only me. So I blush, hoping that this mirror will not change, only myself.