This New Year starts as a well-rounded routine.
Yes, routine can be interpreted as the death of adventure but is it really?
To go to my job locations, I have, on average, around 30 to 40 minutes of varied metros and train rides.
And ones out of two times, my travelling sickness tendencies avoid me to write or read anything. This is, in deed, a shame because it makes me quite useless half of the time. Useless until I realized that I have to simply seat there and reflect or whatever I feel like. this is a good use of my time for my soul.
Talking of souls, when I was only a little girl, I went to the cinema with my parents and saw a movie with the oddest ideas ever including one which even more oddly stuck ever since.
The soul was a little ball of aluminium within your stomack. Isn't this an estonishing idea?
However, I feel thisis what I do, when I am unable to read or technically do anything, just sitting there. i am cultivating and "cleaning up" and sorting out my little tin foil ball within my stomack.
And being crowded... And feeling like am am suffocating...
It doesn't happen much anymore: it is mainly reflection and meditation.