There's a quiet in the air about me now, and the room is chilly and cold enough to have me wrapped in the comforter taken from my bed and does much to make me remember to an earlier hour in the day, when though the sun was shining, it was warm and I was inherently more joyful:

There was a loud horn blowing to signify that sixteen hundo had come and just as it was for me, so too was it also a time for many others to abandon their posts in the duddie and rude and dirty, ugly shipyard for the supposed repose of their homes. My home was not far removed from the lurid scenes of the shipyard, whose plumes of gray smoke and steam billowed as paramountly in the vista afforded my window as anything else I could look out at and see, but I lived far enough away from the bustle and noise of that place to enjoy a spectral silence throughout the day if I ever cared to quit my activities and listen. However, and I was made to feel irked by this almost as part of a daily routine, my barracks room was such a distance from my ship as to force me to acknowledge a lengthy walk to and from it and especially in the afternoons, when I was made weary and reticent and sought nothing more than the privacy of a my dark quarters, the stride home seemed almost an insurmountable task that was made to test my resiliency and perseverance on a scale on par with the biblical charges of those ambrosial figures from theology.

The sun was not kind to me; it had no reason, for I was not a child born under its guidance. The wanton offspring of the overcast and mist and wetness, I hid my presence from the penetrating glare of the oppressive sun's stare using a hood attached to the collar of my coat and much as this was a necessity to protect myself from the itchiness and foul sweating and burning that always erupted all over my exposed skin, I was made to eat feelings of chagrin as I walked for I lacked any ability to withdraw my affinity towards discernment as I consciously recorded and annotated in my mind the sideways glances and stares afforded me by those whom I passed that held a type of quaint disdain for one as myself who deflected the shining light so thoroughly. It was the forced awareness and acknowledgment by my consciousness of the subtle perceptions of others towards me through out the day (and never a good perception, I should comment) that so wholly sapped my desire to further my intentions in any type of social venue and my thoughts and aspirations and determination always twisted to focus on my getting home as quickly as I was able to make out.

In this manner, absorbing the attention and contemptuous thoughts of those all around me from beneath my maternal hood, I traced my path out of the shipyard as quickly as I ever could and after a tricky and demanding assault against an aggressive metal stair-well constructed on the side of a hill to afford access up its steep incline, I could rest easier being then in an area dominated almost entirely by my presence and no other's. There was a checkpoint of shade nearing that cultivated in my heart, always just before breaking across the line what separated the light from the cool dark, a sensation of petulance and impatience. And then the painful sun was a memory behind me and the physical trauma of it was lost to the safety and welcoming of the shade, a space not too chilly and not too warm and no bit at all oppressing. Thither,I could then pull back my hood and experience the ardent rush of suddenly catching my peripherals expanded, letting gush in a great many more colors and sights and movement in the world on my laterals.

My attention became snared on one thing in particular then, as it usually never did, and I focused the bulk of my thought and approaching gaze at a grassy field next to me what expanded a great distance away from me and stretched the length of the street and was also speckled with tall, thick trees spread out in a fashion and pattern that the wind saw best to create, with most of the trees growing in clumps along the edges of the field where the tall, yet neatly trimmed grass met with the grungy sidewalk. I asked myself without words or thoughts what I was so thoroughly ensorcelled by as I glanced up and down the field, and I could not, for as much as I valued my own perception and self-awareness, give myself an answer. Unable to expound any origin or understanding of my infatuation with the grassy field then, I simply accepted that some aspect of it had caught me so slyly and I allowed myself to follow through with my enamorment:

I annotated its varying color scheme on its outskirts that gave up patches and waves and blotches to a pallid, dead hue spread intermittently between unimpressively mint-colored tufts of grass. This schedule of mixed, dead and dying grasses was prevalent mostly in the areas where the sun shone overhead and acted as overseer without any type of bulwark against its cruel, golden lash. I was taken then and moved deeply by epiphany at the sudden beauty that seemed to spring up and catch my fancy from my glimpsing the center of the grassy field, an open area ringed with trees and held under the canopy formed by their boughs, where the blades were tall and strong and a passionate emerald and I knew, without ever touching them, slightly moist and cool to the touch. I had stopped walking when I had been made to realize that area of growth and I stood, no doubt looking foolish to any passing by, and certainly then, while still comprehending fully the scornful perception of all who glimpsed my countenance, did not care even a bit, for I had become smitten with the sensation of freedom and peace given me by that field of simple, delicate grass kept and managed by the corporate world; it was no track of nature left undisturbed and unmarked by time nor man that so many could find meaning and depth and draw transcendent satiation from and yet...it was pristine and commanded an air of prestige and quiet venerability, though I was sure my own antiquity went further. I entertained a thought of discarding my bag and duties and laying in the soft, ameable grass and losing myself to a sweet sleep, but not even the sight and utter captivation and bewitched sensation of that beauteous land could shrug off the deeply carved and permanent tattoo of confinement and conformity given unto me by society for my mind, a prisoner always to the perceptions of others, could never bear surmising the hideousness of the thoughts of those who might see me acting out so unpretentiously from society's doctrine of refinement.