I used to live in this apartment with these huge floor-to-ceiling windows, so I could see everyone on the street, and the building across the street, and best of all I had a perfect view of the horizon. At night I used to pull up a chair right up to the cold pane so my knees just brushed the glass. I’d pull out the book Frankenstein and turn off all the lights, so that I could read my book to the light of the sunset. I used to think of it as a ritual, a lullaby for me, and for the sun. I always enjoyed the experience of reading during the sunset, and that I had these moments to myself and nobody could take them from me.
I used to love swimming, and I mean really love it. Whenever I was stressed, I would imagine how it would feel to go to the lake and dive beneath that crystalline surface. The sudden cold embrace that felt so tight I couldn't breath for a second, the cleansing water that swept the day’s dirt and woes to the bottom of the pool, washing it all from my self... The lake was rather large, so large that it was my personal challenge to reach the other side, a feat I thought I could only achieve if I tried my hardest. Swimming to the point of pain and exhaustion so intense that I knew it would be echoing into the next day.