I am obsessed with that word. It's comforting. My drug of choice.
I like taking holidays from reality.
Reality is confusing, lacks reason and is not satisfactory.
Unlike the control surrealism gives.
My laptop becomes my soulmate of no flesh and blood.
My windows turn into cinema screens.
The cursor is my fingertip gently cruising along a cold, steely skin.
The streetlights are my suns, shining without hydrogen, not blocked by any clouds from reality.
The Pangea forms again, and home is on the next street.
