Mundane Spirits
In a world of bustling hustles, embracing the means of transparency is a virtue of which Zeus follows. Daily life, mundane spirits and nothing new can immobilize. He is in a chain of constant repetition of old patterns, yet underneath the skin of his very consciousness, a paranoia always creeps inside him, like a thing so subtle, he feels him, but never names it, although on the face of his surfaced truth, he never accepts this fact.
A fine weekend. The sunlight glowing inside his room as the dawn freshens up. Zeus wakes up, but notices something is off. The window pane is open, and the chill air hitting on his neck. He also notices his door ajar, not wide, just enough. Zeus' eyes flickers from the window pane, to the ajar door. He thinks for a while. He remembers locking the latch perfectly. "Maybe I was unmindful," he mutters to himself. "After all, our minds are the masters to creating the very horrors which never exists," he continues as he wakes up.He turns his lights on, only to see his laptop glowing against the darkness. He thinks of this as a frantic ignorance of his mind. He closes his laptop before his mind can even create a mess. He brews his morning coffee and sits on his couch, recalling past events. His hands lingering on his cup a second too long. He sips the coffee tasting like die. The air inside the room feels tranquil, almost suffocatingly tranquil. When the apparent misalignments happen, we often put our heart on strike, and the mind remains on the non-striker's edge.
