After three days of fever—ignored by recruiters, kicked out of the house, and bleeding as a reaction—wandering the streets in despair and receiving offers of support in the form of beer or invitations to sex, melancholy sets in.
An escape route opens up. It feels like a spur to adventure, to travel.
Yet, we may have no money for a trip, no ticket, no means of getting anywhere.
In our eagerness to escape, we open a book.
If it is a good book of poetry,
We navigate through metaphor.
Opening the mind via poetry is freedom.
To draw a comparison—if you have ever had an orgasm—it is something like that.
