Room of One's Own, Anyone?

Space -- it has become such a concerning subject, especially in psycho-social and academic circles, that Virginia Woolf's body needs to be fished out of the river in which she drowned herself. From the longest time I can remember, it is a room one wishes most for oneself, yet, sometimes when its constant walls come upon them, all they need is to rush out of the door. To more space, open space. What a thing it is! Allows you to be, behave and breathe. 

Last night I was not high at all, I solemnly swear, I did not drink a drop, yet I felt bad for certain beings, which has triggered this post. I was back to my room, after having attended a social event, in my brightest smile. But the books in my room, glared back at me, bored -- most of them haven't moved an inch in a year. Whatever little movement takes place, happens within couple of shelves. I felt bad for them, they must be so bored -- stuck to the space of shelves, at the mere mercy of the reader's whims.

Later, I was engulfed in a profound pity for the organs, trapped inside my body -- their room.  And most of all, for my kidneys, who were stuck at the back. I genuinely felt miserable at them not being able to float up to the heart and knock and wish a 'Hello', now and then. They would function better! Or, the liver, taking in all the alcohol, might also be feeling a wee bit tipsy in these many years and want to perform bhangra and go down to the knees and do a jump there! I was literally finding it impossible to pacify myself from this over-sympathy I developed for my organs. The gall-stones may want to meet the eye-balls, who knows? What about the backbone wishing to bend and all the way into a circle, like it sees the intestine do? Or, hello, the blood? How come they don't feel trapped in those mean things called veins and blah? I think they could easily abdicate their blue-bloodedness for the want of some air.

Imagine the body, like space, in which astronauts float about, and return to their station. It is not completely impossible, is it? Who said, they would like to be in their one and only room of their own, forever? It is nice, to be out and venture into the unknown or the faintly familiar. Have you noticed, spatial and special are almost homonyms? No body outside my room takes me seriously.

I conclude, I will be a miserable warden, in this mean world.