Psychogeographic Hereticasty to Opsomanic Obsession
A sense of place escapes the grasp, yet a keen sense of position is never far from the mind's eye. Autonomy of motion is a heaven on earth, though in the planes of the abstract it is hindered by caution, calamity, callousness and caustics. Suppose these planes are linked, and that the physical barriers which attempt to define a path are the same which keep the soul contained.
Between two points there is a Route, one which is most agreeable to the needs and desires of the traveler. By movement is the traveler free, to chase ephemerally the goal in the abstract, by means of trespass in the real. A Route determined by will alone, a path engraved by repetition, which is practice for some future solution: Routine. Suppose that Routine suffocates, and that its relief is just enough to maintain action's place as future, rather than enact its preparation in present.
Again and again the Route is traveled, without variation, a dream in motion and a damnation in perpetuity. It remains only to act on its predictions, but the Route itself offers no impulse to this end. The cursed spiral winds itself ever tighter with each rumination.
I offer no escape from Routine. To those who abandon the path it is merely a matter of course, another step on a much larger Route which they must eventually break away from. All that is to be done is an act, which is self-evident, and not suffered by Routine.
- Samryl