Calm and anxiety

i try to pen down the random words and phrases that come to mind as the tram passes a moving blur: the taste of coffee on your tongue. a pink stained sky. i try, but i forget, i lose my train of thoughts almost immediately. the act of writing erases the process of thinking and replaces it with a mechanical stream of ink that belong neither to the mind nor the paper. i am fascinated by that illusory space which borders between fiction and reality, body and air, the moment before your feet touches the ground, that second pause before you catch your breath, before the heaviness of the crowd closes in on you. "you are very quiet, aren't you?" (none of your business). "is there a doctor?" (a man had collapsed in the tram, 2 steps away from me, a loud thud his head against the floor).