After living one too many days of routine, I start to feel like I've been underwater for too long; lungs steadily filling with water. The restlessness. My feet start to kick, craving whatever is above the surface. Spend too long in the deep dark, and your soul starts to dim alongside it.
There are certain remedies for a dimming soul, and I truly believe the first to be Newness.
Get up at a different time. Wake up at 4.30am, when it feels as though the world is still rocking in a deep slumber, and it's just you and the universe. Walk out of your doorway, leave your orange-glow porch for the burnt amber streets. Your mind hasn't mapped this place before, even though you've stood here a thousand times. And when you breathe, really breathe. It smells like a foreign but familiar place, in a foreign yet familiar time - maybe somewhere in your muddled childhood. You inhale with a shade so deep, you almost believe that if it travels far enough inside you, it might just transport you right back to that moment you'd misplaced. And instead, a new moment forms.
Go walk through a ghost town, race the sun to explore the corners first. Facing the dark side of the solar system has always been romantic for me, everything is painted in human nature, human convenience. A canvas you can walk inside, unintentional art. Standing quietly everyday, unacknowledged. Just how it likes to be.
When my soul begins to dim, I go somewhere new. It dusts the cobwebs from my eyes, washes the mould from my rotting mind. Newness is an antibiotic you can't develop resistance to, fresh eyes clean from the washing basket in your mother's bedroom. I built my memories on the foundations of the chords from the songs I'd never heard before, there's a reason you cry when it plays so many years later. There's a reason why that perfume makes you think of him, there's a reason why life once felt so big - once upon a time. When it was all so New.