It's not really day 8, but it's the 8th day.
The curtain was flowing. The wind made a sail of it next to the open window.
Light pushed against shadow on the bathroom floor. They competed for space endlessly, unaware that the wind had set it in motion.
I looked at it mindlessly, sitting on the lid-down toilet. I'd been clipping my toenails. I noted careless breaks in the nails that hadn't mattered until I noticed them. Just the same, I noticed my legs had become numb from sitting for too long when I stood up. I walked around in small circles until my circulation filled them with sensation again.
From one thing to another, my attention shifted around like a bouncing ball of rubber bands. One would fling off, catapulting me into a thought I hadn't expected.
I landed on one that I first thought pointless. I could be thinking and doing anything right now, but I am walking in circles in my bathroom because I stared too long at the curtain.
Nevermind, it was pointless. But, I realized, I decided the meaning.
Wasn't it true? The light fights the dark for space. Or does the dark fight the light, filling it with nothing? Does the wind care what it set in motion?
Now that was stupid, I judged.
It was the same war. I was on one side throwing myself at the other, not realizing two numbed hands of the same body were wrestling ridiculously to no end. The wall between trivial and epochal crumbled upon observation, and I wondered what line I had to cross before breaching insanity.
I decide, I decided.
