Decompression


Decompression

More for the sake of therapy than anything else, the human requires this type of pause. If the human has been compressed (squeezed too tightly, bear-hugged or barely hugged) then this pause is a time for self re-inflation wherein the specimen can unshrivel himself. If, however, the poor person has been too pumped up with the stuff of the world (the conversations and timetables, the form and the function of life) then he is in need of the opposite and requires an unloading of what's been forcibly heaped atop him letting him shrink back to a tinier and more simple size.

Aurally, the word is a flight of stairs to descend and each syllable trickles off a little lower as the person disappears downward into its end. De: top of the stairs, full view of the world. Com: the first footfalls, less accentuated. Presh: the first tremor of disappearance takes hold in the shushing sound. Shnnn: all but vanished! Down the person went, invisible and unsqueezed.

The connections grow fuzzy, the focus blurs: a person decompressing.

I will be away from this for an indefinite amount of time on a sort of invisible and transient vacation, the kind where body stays put leaving the mind to mingle with the holographic molecules of the world, projected or imagined or otherwise. Yes: in short - After a long, and quite hard year of typing blocks of text into this application each and every day (though not all get published) a short break is needed for this squeezed human. For the only reader that cares and might worry about where the words will go if uncollected - fear not, little squirrel! They're just being irrigated into a different space entirely, and I assure you that the rest relates not to the activity of writing in general but only insofar as it is posted here. Bluntly: there is a seed and it needs all the water it can get, and that requires a bit of an absense from this location and this particular locution.

As he once said, I should have something to show for this rest soon or Soon.