Hideout: The Desk

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Source: Hideout

The word hideout has indeed made me thinking. I could not provide a readymade and quick response. What first comes into mind when I have encountered the word hideout? What are the feelings it provokes? Do I have a hideout? If so, where is it? How do I go there? What do I do in the hide? Is it a physical place? Say in the city? Outside the city? A park? A church? Library perhaps? Or is it more a transcendental space not bounded by the physical place? Say the hideout is a place where you are with your friends? Or a space where you write like I do now?

There are so many things that came across to mind when I think of hideout. I would like to think that my hideout is on my desk where I work, think and write. In other words, my desk is a threshold between the physical world and the transcendental domain. The latter is a space that is neither here nor there. I am not a writer myself. When I am that space, I tend to forget the troubles of life. The time even flies when I am there.

Even though I am not a professional writer myself I love writing so much. There is something so fulfilling by the act of writing itself, in finding the words and gathering them together to express that boiling thoughts in your head. The ideas should not be first brilliant before we write. Sometimes ideas get improved as we write. We do not think and consolidate the idea before we could write, but it is through writing, at least in my case, that I think and work ideas out.

There are times, however, that the idea of writing can be intimidating. For me, there is nothing more intimidating than a black word document staring back at you. As you try to fill it words, the words just do not come around. You try to write words, form a sentence only to delete them after you have written them. That cycle can continue over and over again, sometimes the whole day. In that case, my hiding place is my bed, with Netflix, and ice cream.

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