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She looked at me and asked if I had ever experienced bliss. I told her I have, and that it was lovely. Her smile welcoming, and filled with warmth persuades me to snuggle in closer to the miscellaneous pillows collected from WHO knows where. They’re a funny people over at the Red House. All that’s needed be done is walk through the back gate, grab a tea cup, and wish somebody ‘happy birthday’. Illuminating in a way that I feel vibrant and safe being a guest in such a home. There isn’t an inch of the building that is off limits to the occupants and their friends creative powers. Believe me when I say, that there are many hands to fill in the empty spaces of that earthy and time distilled void. It reminds me of the places I haven’t gone yet. The places I imagined in my mind when I was younger and wanted to escape the life I was in. Finding such a place as naturally ( if you consider crashing their house party natural) as I did after an impromptu decision to move to Australia, told me that I was exactly where I was meant to be. I think of my life as repeating. Not historically, but in illusion. My life path was given to me by myth, and approved by a narratively chaotic realm of gods. That’s how it feels to live today. I can’t afford to think of tomorrow when everyday alive is a sip of gentle remedy. It coats my throat and I know that I can’t stop. I’m chasing the warmth of that dying nova. It won’t burn for long, and long is the journey to get there. I feel me expand to my space and collect what is offered. Giving what I can inreturn. I can describe the experience, but will struggle to describe how I felt those days. When the sun reddened my cheeks and the breeze skimmed its fingers along my shoulder blades. When my blood stood still; then in an instant took off towards the present it was becoming acutely aware of. She asked me if I had ever experienced bliss. I know I have. It’s misunderstood. It doesn’t mean that there is no evil in your vision. Bliss is not a safe voyage. It’s a trip for your soul. Bliss is an equality of both worlds. A perfect balance of pain and joy. A realization that you are alive and breathing. The picture that paints into your skin when it’s cut, bruised, burned, skimmed, stroked. The racing of your heart as it’s being touched for the first time. Breathe. There is nothing more intimate than listening to the sound of your own heart beat.