Part of my english coursework, i had to describe a place; either real or imaginary. so in the bordem of my lessons came up with the most awkward place to describe.

... It sort of makes sense.


The Refuge

The refuge stood there, never moving, always changing. I suppose it was just a place to run away to, to forget about all the worries around me. To escape from myself, no one can hurt me here.
It was grey, and only that, but it seemed to hold every shade, and every colour. It was at times, the simplest thing imaginable, stretching endlessly into abyss. But still it was complex; it had no walls, no boundaries. Yet you still feel like your in a room; enclosed and safe. I suppose that�s all it is, a contradiction of itself. It is, as you perceive it.
There�s a mist around you, it almost speaks to you - as if it is a person. But it has no voice, you just know what it means by how it acts, and moves.
There was once a time where I saw a room, metamorphisised into the space around me. It seemed dark and twisted, empty but overcrowded, almost claustrophobic. The walls enclose around you, and fade away into the horizon.
There�s a cool breeze in the air around; engulfing your body. You feel it only when you need it, but not when you want it. It seems almost tranquil and calm, yet it still moves. Flowing like a leaf caught in a stream.
I wonder though, how do I get out?
There�s no entrance, no exit, just an infinity surrounding you. If I run, where would I be running? Where�s there a door in a room with no walls?
I wonder now, is this really a refuge at all?

� Trapped in my own mind.