I'm up and walking, sitting, drinking coffee at half past six am. What is this rush? In part it's my body on autopilot—there has been a lot of a adrenalin these last few weeks, buying and selling a house in record time (six weeks) will do that to you.
But behind this, there is a “flight from myself” going on, as Heidegger would put it. Transition churns up basic anxiety, your best friend who accompanies you everywhere. It's an interesting acid, it burns through joy, hope, fear, anger, sadness, everything. I am propelled by this across Earth. With my GPS on my phone I feel like a voyager, like De Quincey setting out across London following the stars. A flaneur.