Its flatness is an invitation for adventure, a reminder that I am free. I am not shackled on an armchair at some “professional” philosopher’s classroom. I’m my own mind.
From end to end is the terrain I ought to walk. Here lies the four corners of the universe. It itself is a map of my thoughts as well as my dreams long forgotten.
A used Japanese cup to hold my pens and pencils, liquid eraser, and a lost bottle opener. An eye drop to quench m thirsty eyes on a long ready cursor on the large screen. A phone stand where Lea’s name is engraved. A leaf-shaped stoneware I made myself. A bluetooth speaker no longer in use. A bone-conduction earphones that reminds me of my tinnitus.A pair of high-fidelity earplugs to help me forget of my noisy neighbors. My eyeglasses sleeves made of recycled materials. A laptop I’m still paying monthly. A wired mouse that has tested time. A notebook stand where I shall rest this journal. A mew keyboard I shall type on. A Turkish bottle stand left by a broken friendship. A book I borrowed from a dead friend’s library. A book I bought to signify my return to the religious. And, of course, my hands on top of this open journal, yielding to each strike of my pen.
This is the valley of wonder my fingers walk throughout the day as my mind wanders on its own trails. It is a valley I shall leave when my feet start calling to bring the walk outside where I hope to meet you, a fellow walker whose fingers have also just come from a walk on your desk.