Wayfaring

Whenever there is no good video to watch, no good movie to see in the theatre, or no good book or magazine to read, I opt for Imaginary Visualization. I invent a setting in my mind and stay there for a while. It might be a meditative teahouse in orbit around a wayfaring gas giant planet, or something totally different.

If a traveller, emancipating himself slowly from the endless suburbs, and smoke, and din of dirty Wolstanstone (corrupted into Wolstone), a manufacturing town not in the South of England, proceed westward, he enters into a region of peace and rural beauty, refreshing as the vision of Beatrice was to Dante, the glimpse of earth to Satan, the thoughts of home to them who know that their lot is to perish in the wave. The village of Northington, which the wayfaring man from Wolstone may be thought thus to hail, reflects, nevertheless, the wealth of its great and smoky neighbour.