…….This is the first time I’m reblogging anything, and probably one of the very few times I ever will. Just, elegantly written and hits someplace deep.
“…[T]he placeless person does not have to think about doing anything or being anyone. He is so thoroughly disconnected from the reality beyond his window that he is cut off from its social norms: there is a feeling of freedom, of not having to play by the rules, of not having to put down roots or be responsible or moral in the usual ways.” ~ Cody C. Delistraty
On the way loneliness, freedom, and romance are intertwined.
For the past few weeks, I’ve woken up unsure exactly where I am. My bed, a modest full size, looks out onto a cobblestone courtyard framed by green linden trees and an intricately decorated castle. I’m in a pocket-sized one-bedroom apartment and although it is behind the Place des Vosges in Paris, by the looks of it I could be in Normandy or Toulouse, even Vermont. For that matter, there is no real way for me to know the year is 2014: save for the circle-pronged electrical outlet tucked behind my dresser, I could be waking up in the eighteenth century. In the haze of the early morning, these things tend to meld together.
The feeling of placelessness is a bit like a dream: the heightened romance, the intense brooding, the inherently transitory nature of the whole affair. Placelessness happens…
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