My life is about one thing, the pursuit of a curative for my own restless nature. In younger days I was misdiagnosed as having a fear of commitment. I now know this to be a lie. Aside from a healthy dose of experientially learned caution, I don't particularly indulge in fear. I have found it tends to dull the flavour of things, leaving a musty wet blanket over the fires of passion and happiness.
I am a sensualist. I am always seeking the next foolhardy adventure, the newest thrill, another conquest. My head continually in the clouds, I still manage to maintain a firm footing with my old favourites. Good food, drink, and conversation, all honing my wit and keeping the senses sharp. The graceful saunter of a pretty girl accelerating my heart with possibilities. The fanciful flight of music and song played with friends taking me on previously unheard journeys.
I love to putter. Tending the garden brings me pleasure. Fixing the million different things that seem to need my attention gives me a sense of home and hearth. The idea of a cozy corner where I can curl up like a kitten thrills the more subtle tones of my nature. I love to feed and nourish the people in my life with the simple gestures of a smile and a joke.
and then it happens...
That invariable moment where I can not be soothed or assuaged. Each sensation merely a reminder I am nowhere I want to be. Each tick of the clock reverberating within my bones and demanding with every fibre of my soul, I run. Run far, run fast, run down, run away, run out, run off. I want to keep my run on sentence from being run of the mill.
Most of the time there is only one answer.
Are you going my way?
Dabuoy
Sounds like a serious case of restless longing!!
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