Monday morning entry. 28th July. Impressions.

The hazy Monday morning air. A quiet bus ride, moving through the linear world while thoughts spun with the boundless isness of Consciousness. The faint unease of a depleted wallet until tomorrow, quickly softened by the warmth of a hot chocolate shared with a figure on the street—a reminder of basic needs met, and of the understanding of love that anchors it all.

A vivid contrast from the boxed-in feeling of yesterday's football, a collective vagueness observed even by Glenn, that felt like people without souls. But now, a sense of release. The bus passing Redhall Lane, the urban edges giving way to green, as if the cage door had truly sprung open.

Anticipation ripples for Lola, the merry legs at my mum's in Wetherby, the anchor for this current yo-yoing life. Just five weeks until a brief, vital pilgrimage, a precious ten days of walking. And then there’s Glenn, a twenty-year constant, understanding the intricate currents of autism, ADHD, and existential crisis, a shared appreciation for the randomness of life.

A feeling that life is getting better, a quiet, unfolding liberation, as the bus carries me forward on its fixed path, whiley spirit soars free, knowing I am not a body, but free, as God created me?