Something poetic about the tedious vexation and annoyance the immovability of the notion and emotion of ennui provides to one’s day could be written here simultaneously describing the general boredom that is a life on hold due to the stresses, distresses and general duresses one is under that leads to a range of feelings that incur a lack of sexy caresses caused by a severe lack of investment in time, lubricating slime or indeed the joyous feeling of the sublime yet one can not ignore the fact that the door of opportunity is ajar, unable to be taken not because it is so far, but because this immovable and flexible quicksand is so bizarre in that it creates a state of mind, that try as you might to find, cannot be forced to describe in any words or phrases or language of any kind the thoughts, feelings and ideas floating around, not hiding in shadows waiting to be found, but indeed dancing and sparkling and waiting to be brought to life from your words making a sound … but if that were so simple to do, the feeling would have faded through, like a stray scared away with a well timed ‘shoo!’ but that is not the case today, as the ends of my emotions fray into a state of disarray.

Some days … you just feel older than other days.