Rugs

I have a dull aching pain in the back alleys of my brain. The type of pain that is just below a headache, as if something was trapped back there and looking for attention in the same way that a cat whines at a door when it's raining. I imagine my eyes rotating in their sockets - the bright and perhaps self-aware focus of my pupils rolling until they gaze into the recesses of my brain as if from a great height. A light shines through these windows from outside and they send beams wandering through my fog enshrouded brainpan.

If you were standing between these two animate searchlights, also peering into my brain, you might be astonished to perceive a bright and changing maze unfolding below you. You might compare the complexities of this maze to the first time you saw a Persian rug unrolled and then gazed and then followed the mythical animals and complex threads and realised that though the carpet has boundries it's creator has none.

Something I'm working on.