After the calm comes the storm. Before the storm there is calm.
There are two ways of looking at it. There is always the factor of unpredictability, the feeling that you could be at the beach, enjoying a leisurely stroll and you'd never know when quicksand could suck your toes in, like an earthy black hole. You'd never know when something would start and when that something could end. You'd never know when you're falling out of feeling or plain out of your depth in uncharted territory. You'd never know if there is a default other than a calm blank, if anything else you'd allow yourself to feel would be potentially too much to take. You'd never know how to feel even after the sting of the fiftieth hit fades maybe. It would still feel fresh and like another medal to pin up on your shirt, hot bread just popped out of the toaster, falling in love, sucking in the smoke of your first blunt through bared teeth, looking at Lladros porcelain and wondering - I was here and I saw this happen but I was an outsider and watched perhaps with detached curiosity, maybe not as someone who was wholly there.