Your heartbeats are.. very loud. Much as your breathing. And your smells also.
Building creaks, wind howls, cars are nightmares, crinkling bags, shifting papers, scratching penscils graphite and ink, brights light, clothes feels tight on hair and skin, air brushes over everything, whispers feels like screams, so many words and numbers to process, every organ in the body moving, grooving, working together. Footsteps, chewing, blinking, moving. Food smell, trash smell, human smell, nature smell, mortar, sulfur, wax, paint, oil, dust. The little bits of pollen blinking onto skin and hairs. The quiet is loud, the loud is pain.
But what is good? Night time. Darker, quieter, calmer. Sure, there is still busy going on during night, but the day is much much more. More torture, more challenging, more painful. Night is peace.
Another good thing? Fighting. Sneaking. Hearing everything enemy will do, using micro-movements and expressions against enemy. Learning to walk, breathe, listen, see, as quiet as can be. Noticing every little detail, being resourceful.
Fighting distracts. It focuses purely on target. No need for extra sounds when fighting is in the zone, the moment.
The sound of the struggle, the passion of fighting. The injuries sustained, the blood, the sound of skin tearing and voices and weapons clashing. The feel of the pulse, the adrenaline. The smell of sweat, gunpowder, metal upon metal, even just bare arms.
Pain may be excruciating, but it makes fighting feel so alive and so freeing.
It is hard how else to explain.
And... and another good thing.
Taste. Sometimes, there are tastes that are terrible, tastes in the air that cannot be removed. Tastes from inside the body, bile, tartar. Tastes from the outside, the residual taste of milk, smoke.
And then there are beautiful tastes. Delicious foods, drinks, flavors. My favorites are.. results of habits, of outcomes from fighting thrills. Resulting in the indulgence of immortality, of cannibalism.
- Musings of Bomu Chuntao, an original character of BUYOSPUDLIN
