Centrifugal Existence

 Had the thought today that I find myself whirling further and further away from some sort of core.  The search for identity or to preserve identity, once a roaring rapid, seems a measly trickle.  Passing by some cherry blossoms,  I imagined myself being in orbit around some concept of me within society but progressively losing control as the radius to this core grows greater in length.  I don't remember feeling so invisible, so peripheral.  It feels just a bit hollow.  My mind is transparent.  I walk on the cracks of the pavement, trying not to fall off.   I wonder how I ever wandered around the various neighborhoods of Seoul alone meeting random people.  I wonder about the lives of the people I pass in all the liminal spaces of the day, except that I am the petal on a wet, black bough.  Perhaps this is just another form of nostalgia.