The Moors.

I sat upon the dewy-masked turf and closed my eager eyelids to the wind. To my right, my book-deadened bag was discarded; instead, my light-fingered hands clasped onto a piece of pale paper, flailing and vulnerable to the whipping currents of air that were tearing at my senses. The rawness of the situation hit me then. Up there, I was free. You see, it is a rare occurrence for a person to experience clarity. Total and complete clarity. But with the wind in my ears and the sodden earth working its way through my worn out shoes, life had never seemed as transparent. Most of my days oscillated between a dull translucency and an opaque shade of grey. But not then.

Let me back up a little.

Imagine a classroom, with synthetic people breathing in the synthetic air. Blue, mass produced chairs (designed specifically to reduce the individuality of the place) line the rows and columns of the factory.  Now look in the middle of the far left conveyor belt, and see me, sat empty eyed and succumbing. A thought strikes me; and the thought slowly forms into a plan. And the plan slowly turns into action... And so I run. I run out of the place, up the hill, through the lane, through the woods and up onto the moors.

Fast forward. Onto the moors again.

I stood up, as the lonely rain began to fall again. My heart was still beating, hard: The anthem of my escape. I have never felt so blissfully, painfully and truthfully alive. I was unaware as the words on the paper somehow found themselves onto my tongue;

"O breathe a word or two of fire! 
  Smile, as if those words should burn me, 
  Squeeze as lovers should"O kiss 
  And in thy heart inurn me" 
  O love me truly!”

The words ended, and so did the clarity. The rain soaked the paper, and so I could read no more. Translucency returns, blurring my vision, gradually returning with the grey. So, I put on my tie, picked up my bag, and walked back inside.