There, when I choose, I can find my little chits of happiness folded and scattered here and there, and I open it and peruse it at will. My mind is like a little room of my favourite colours. Black, red, green and white.....and hues and shades of purple and mauve, lilac and violets......... It will have my thoughts swirling around like rings of vapour, smoky and vibrant. I have people entering and exiting at my, only my, will. The blackest and reddest parts of my mind are open to only people like my very close friends (they know who they are). The only time when anyone else is let in here is when I develop an ardent desire to shock them with these aspects of me.
My mind's room open to a neat room which anyone can see; it is deviously deceptive. On further observation you can see a slight sootiness covering those shaded corners. My room/mind is essentially calm and peaceful, with rare eruptions of thunder. It breathes softly at intervals, and letting in puffs of thoughts from leaky corners. Sometimes there are people in there with me, and sometimes we're alone, my music and I. My room is painted,I admit, in pretentious psychedelia . Sometimes there are little imps resembling The Beatles. There are intoxicating smells. Fragrances, beautiful and sinful, which make their home in the sniffer.
My obsessions roam these territories,though they don't know they're there. They please and shock me in turns. They unknowingly tread the sacred domains and I hear their footfall from my corner. They leave only when I forget them.
My room is also my library. Everything I read , am reading and will read snugly await my attention. My music of yesteryears and my own waft in the air. Art, that I witness and envision leap from wall to waltzing to the enveloping music.
This is my paradise, full of life and sunshine; my wilderness; my pleasure dome.
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