I find it interesting that in my head, inside the reality created by my mind, there exists a multitude of people, constructs of personalities, elastic, always changing and being added to with each new observation or fresh piece of information. They reside in the mind, all living together under one roof. These are the portraits of the people I know; these are the rubber souls of the stars we see.
There was still a peculiar static in the television reception tonight while watching. Remembering the trouble I had the other day with the antenna and the somewhat slippery roof under my work shoes, I decided that rubber soles would serve me better this time around. I couldn't however find anything really wrong with the antenna, all the wires were they should be and everything seemed in its place. Tall television receivers in their natural habitat, springing up all around, high above the surrounding suburban blocks, all standing tall, all with their full attention to the distant towers on the hill.
And so that was where I found myself, sitting there atop the roof of the house, gazing over the wide neighborhood. The Beatles album Rubber Soul reverberating from my room and I felt a strange calm sink over me as the troubles of the world below slowly crept away into the night.
Beatles transitional record