Sometimes, at the end of a long day, I like to go there: my quiet place. A simple roof. Where nobody goes. As the sun slowly sets, the fluffy, cream clouds turn to a candyfloss pink then a deep, sea blue, while the sun quietly dies, turning the sky from a sunset orange to an inky blue-black. A cool breeze ruffles through my hair and tickles my skin. The gravel on the roof makes small dents in my cold bare feet. My back is in an uncomfortable position, but on my little square roof, no matter the spot, I always feel comfortable. I am away from the world of confusion and stress.
The night has now risen. Out come the stars, sparkling and small, but bright; tens of them, like glitter on the sky. There’s a large orange one and I think it’s a planet. A full moon shines on the Earth, a small dot in a big multiverse.
As the moment passes and I enter back into the world, a dog barks. An owner shouts. A tyre screeches. A cat meows… and all of a sudden it becomes too much, so I close my ears. But it doesn’t all disappear. A stream trickles in the neighbours’ garden, smoothly running in an endless cycle, oblivious to the chaotic world around it. Time ticks by, but it doesn’t notice. I look up.
I look up there, to where two galaxies also go in a cycle. They spin round forever; content as could be. So why do I have to hide? I already am. I’m smaller than a speck of dust in fields of wheat. And I am shown that peace can be restored in a mind such as mine. All it takes is to find your spot where time and space don’t rule. A little hiding place. A quiet place.