I started going there as a child, I think?
I felt non-judged, felt like myself
(Whatever “myself” meant at that point in space and time)
I thought everyone had this kinda place
Surely, everyone needed it?
It took me a while before I got it:
That space was my own, my gift, a place I crafted for myself, maybe before I was even born
For refuge, for respite, a place to sleep and dream and let the tears flow
I still go there
It is my own
And I like its neutrality
As a child, I felt it welcoming
Now I appreciate neutrality even more
Walls are pale grey-blue
Air flows in and out
There are windows, but none really
I feel the sun, the light and warmth
I hear the water
Is it a beach? A silent forest? Atop a mountain?
Are those clouds floating by, misting over?
Birdsong, chai, sounds of silence.