it's that same feeling you get when you go on a holiday for two weeks. on about the ninth night, you sit on the beach and you put your left hand in the sand and feel how real it is, and you do the same with your right hand except you are disturbed by the cigarette end at the tip of your finger. but with both hands, you realize everything is important somehow. and you hear the water crashing in and you feel a bit more alive than you did earlier in the day. but it all feels important somehow. and you hear a beautiful girl in the distance, she's about 19 - and she's messing around by the water with her boyfriend, and you're a bit jealous of how much fun they're having, but you're not too jealous, you kind of love to see them happy. because it all feels so real, and so important somehow.
and it's just a feeling, it's some kind of light breeze that sweeps over you every now and then, and you can't put it into words, it's just there, and something about it makes you smile as you snap a leaf from a tree and fiddle with it all the way home. there's something about the world, something about your place in it. it feels easier than you've been making it. everything makes a little more sense.