Whiskey and etc.

I just had a shot of whiskey and etc, with a good book at my side, it feels as if the beauty of the letters and phrases are seeping into my heart just by sitting near them. The light of the lamp gives off a color of afternoon sunshine against the wooden table and paper. I can just fall in love with this moment.

I wonder if even a situation like this can be considered a metamorphosis? The world is the same, and I am the same as I was, more or less. Outside the window the night sky catches my eyes in its strange afterglow of the dusk, the clouds still retaining the orange-gray of some time ago. Maybe it will snow again tonight.

The little letters of the world breaks down and composes whole again, making the world I see around me. Whether I can explain with my eager attempt or not, the world around me and myself is in constant flux of endless metamorphosis, shifting in and out of things even as I sit here and type away the words falling into my head. Even as the world is calm and so beautiful around me, I can't seem to be able to see the end of the metamorphosis, or what everything is changing into. Like the breakfast of a blind, my hands can only reach to things I need for my sustenance.