this night is steeped in rain, spread long and thick and even down and over itself. the world shakes, a wind through the trees, and the water flies, little fireworks. i am just sitting here, contented in that, not moving, not wishing to. just thinking of the taste of proximity, the decisions i will make. just thinking of all the things that have led me here, all the people i am choosing not to meet right now. and someone tells me that everything is a choice but it isnt and i know that. there is no choosing sometimes, no excuse for those wanderings. and my feet bury themselves deep in the darker sand of this place, overlapped with an image of home. and in the attempt to separate myself from things i realise that they are a part of me now, they give me dimension. and the thing that i overlap is myself.