31/01/2011

I was watching movies on TV last night, starting with Shrek 3. I remembered this one strikingly, just as I remember most of the movies that came out between 2005-07 while I worked in a cinema complex. I remember barging in at the end of that animation movie as the end credits kept going but all the customers had left, and together with my co-workers we'd start dancing in the dark to the music. We danced to Shrek, but my favorite one was always Snakes on a Plane's end tune. My... How much I danced in the dark to that music playing... Some of my co-workers were even clued up enough to warn me every time a showing of that movie was about to end, just so I could indulge in my crazy outbursts. Actually... I once started dancing to it while a few customers had remained seated (you always get the few who just won't leave till the thing is completely over) and only realised that when they started clapping their hands.

The way I got that little job was odd in terms of timing. I had just graduated from university with a law degree I had no idea what to do with, and I was still immersed deep in depression. I had spent the summer behaving mostly like a zombie when I wasn't out and about with a 'bad' friend who happened to be even more fucked up than I was at the time (we'd met in group therapy...)... This period of my life is such a blur in my head, but let's try to remember for a second. I had just turned 22, I was deeply depressed, I wasn't eating either. I started group therapy at the hospital, where this girl approached me. She kind of was my nemesis in terms of personality. She wasn't the zombie type of depression intent on quietly dying in her corner (ie: ME), she was more the borderline personality disorder type who would savagely go into full-blown self-destruction mode. And she approached me... I felt so listless at the time that her bursts of energy and endless streams of ideas to pass the time allured me.

I started hanging around in her flat more and more often during that summer... By the way, has anyone ever tried to have lunch with eating-disordered people? It's quite funny when I look back on it now. Though there's only a salad bowl of lettuce and chopped tomatoes in front of them, the way they look at the food is like facing the most evil of invisible foes. Then there is the unspoken 'rivalry' between people, meaning that even though you're already eating little more than wind, you would rather die than be seen eating one piece of lettuce more than the other person. Since I hated home life at the time, I was rather relieved to be able to go to this new friend's place all the time... Every night she would have a plan that involved pub crawls, meeting complete strangers and making up stories of all sorts. No matter how drunk I got, I remember always staying shyly in my corner while she went on flirting with guys, and on the way back to her flat I would go sleep off the hangover in the spare room while she 'entertained' her company in her bedroom. I became her quiet companion of debauchery who never took part in it but merely observed around me. Sometimes my lack of interest in pointless flirting and picking up strangers in bars frustrated her and she would lash out on me, reminding me how clueless I was in general, especially as far as sex was concerned. To be fair, I was way too depressed to care whatever anyone said at the time.

Our 'friendship' ended by the end of that summer, when she fell pregnant by a random guy she had met the night before. She went straight for an abortion, but I think when she learned she was actually pregnant with twins (she was a twin herself, so it ran in her family) that really messed with her mind further. Her parents convinced her to leave London for a while to try and sort herself out, and the last time I heard from her she was studying to become a... therapist. Oh, and she was going out with a guy who worked in a circus.

Anyway... right after that, I got that little job and it happened to be exactly what I needed. It wasn't the job itself (alone, it would have made me more depressed than anything) but the people who worked there at the time.

When I was done watching Shrek, I watched Ps: I love You. I'd never seen it, but that movie made me think about some things further... I don't know what it is, but for the past few weeks I've been watching far more movies than usual, but not just watching... My mind is literally analysing every word and scene I watch. I think it's trying to pick up on clues as to how to be a mainstream person within society.

It's all so stupid, really. I was not brought up in the same way as all these people out there. I was never taught social cues, let alone how one is supposed to do anything in this so-called world. Add to that the fact that I happen to be very abstract by nature and what you get is this shadow of a person (me) feeling like she just landed from Mars. Now, if my mother had been more clued up herself, she would have naturally passed on to me that ability to fit in (even just to pretend) and understand the dynamics of society as it stands and within which we must live, but that wasn't the case at all. And there was never anyone else to teach me these things. These things you people take for granted, by the way.

I'm not complaining here... But it'a shame. Why? Because I find myself unable to 'use' whatever things I know or happen to be good at in a way that society would understand or value.
Another thing that's quite sad: I had a beautiful upbringing and there never was anything wrong or flawed with me (even the depression and disorder were an exploration more than genuine illness, which is why I snapped out of it overnight) but the way society works... is to break everything that starts out pure and good to suck it all in as part of the machine.

That's all, really. No more trips back in time. Good day, good night,

Bye.

30/01/2011

A flurry of dreams invaded my head throughout the night... One of them was a beautiful one.
In that dream, I found myself in a gondola gliding slowly in the Venician canals... Everything was there - the old architecture, row after row of houses half-immersed in water, monuments of all sorts made of ancient white stone... And there I sat in that little boat, paddling along in awe, surrounded by calm waters. I remember thinking: "Wow, I'm in Venice... How did I get there? It's so beautiful..."

I stopped the gondola next to a large, ancient building with crumbling walls inside which a crowd of tourists was already gathered to watch people in white togas make a speech that I couldn't understand, but I somehow 'knew' that they were pretending to be ancient Roman politicians throwing powerful rhetoric at one another. I got out of the boat and took a stroll around the place, looking at the intricate patterns and carvings on the old stone. I remember stopping by a stall where women wearing flowing dresses were giving away some cake topped with whipped cream. I took a piece, my eyes drawn to the beautiful sight all around me. Then I picked up my camera and began trying to capture the beauty of the place, and as I kept taking pictures suddenly I realised it was already night time and the whole building was flooded with the light of lanterns hanging from the walls.

Back in my little boat, I went further down the canal, and just as I was about to turn at a corner where yet another ancient building stood half immersed in water, I caught a glimpse of the most bizzarre sight of all: There in the distance stood the Tower of Pisa.
"That can't be right," I thought, "That tower isn't supposed to be in Venice..."

Yet there it stood in the distance, its unmistakable leaning structure rearing above the water against the backdrop of night.

And that's when I woke up from the dream... and when I did, it was morning again in my reality. I laid still in my bed for a long while, eyes to the white ceiling with a dreamy smile on my lips.

29/01/2011

I was moving the furniture around in my room earlier and found an old audio tape that really did look ancient. I recognised it, though. It was an old cassette with a recording of cartoon songs I used to watch when I was little, together with a recording of me singing and talking when I was around 4 years old.

I popped the tape inside the hi-fi system's cassette reader and my mother's younger-sounding voice filled the room, saying things like 'so what are you going to sing now?' and then came my own voice... I'd forgotten that when I was little I was having trouble pronoucing the 'sh' sound, so instead I would pronounce it 'zzz', and I think my mother must have found it too cute not to have it recorded for 'posterity'... haha. I remember very vaguely the day she recorded all those cartoon songs and myself singing, but listening to them feels like a trip back in time. I'd forgotten all these cartoons they used to have on TV at the time - that was in the mid to late 80's. Back then, childrens' TV was the hype. Each channel (there were only 5 channels in France back in the days) had a schedule for kids that included an early cartoon programme in the morning before school on weekdays, followed by another scheduled right after classes ended, and then weekends filled with things that targetted mainly kids at the weekend.

The cartoons themselves, mostly Japanese, were varied to cater for almost all tastes. Most of them had at least one thing in common: there was some sort of storyline to them that meant each episode was linked to the previous one in a developing plot that made the children never want to miss 'what happens next', so to speak. Those were the kind I naturally prefered over the ones that can be watched at random like a Simpsons' episode (where stories are resolved withing each episode) because it built up a strong sense of anticipation while allowing for the imagination to come up with possible scenarios as to what would happen next.

This childrens' TV hype only lasted about a decade, though. I remember vaguely the media complaining that Japanese cartoons were 'too violent' for kids, and by the time I was around 15, kids programmes no longer took up as much air time as they used to when I was younger. And then I noticed that all the Japanese cartoons had disappeared from the small screen, replaced by more 'European' looking ones like the Ruggrats or whatever else. One thing I also noticed, most cartoons now no longer had this component of having a plot that unfolds from one episode to the next. The only thought I had then was: "Lucky I got to watch the old cartoons rather than those..." Mind you, all the old school cartoons may now be found on cable channels for all I know.

Loved that one when I was 10/12 yrs old: Dragon Ball 'saga'

This one, called Candy, apparenty,
I used to watch a lot when I was 4/5 yrs old

Same for the Robinson family

Oh, and I liked this one too, Princess Sarah

There were many more, I just can't think of them all now.

I actually used to watch a lot of television while growing up... I mean, there was never any strict rule imposed on me, which really means I could often do as I pleased. If I was curious about something - anything - then chances were that I would be able to check things for myself. Usually though, I was curious about all the things that were supposed to be 'wrong' or 'dangerous'. I remember being very little and wanting to play with my mother's matches... of course she said to me not to touch them because I could hurt myself, but what did I end up doing? I took the matchbox when she wasn't looking and ran to my room where I proceeded to strike a few matches. Then I wanted to see what would happen if I lit up a piece of paper, and when I did, of course I panicked because the piece of paper caught fire at once. My mother came storming into the room and took care of the little incident... then she looked at me and asked me if I believe her now, and that was the end of it.

When I was around 5 years old, she got me my first pet - a hamster. I was terrible with that poor creature... but at least this one used to bite me whenever I tried too many things with him (like... trying to put him inside the washing machine because it just looked too much like a giant hamster wheel...). One morning I remember wanting to re-enact the Great Flood in his cage.... I remember strikingly filling the bottom with water and of course the poor creature started to panic - which was alright, since his helpless, panic-striken condition was part of the plot. I was then supposed to be the hand that saved him from certain death, but when I tried to 'save him' he bit me. I remember running into the corridor crying as I held my bleeding finger, which was when my mother stepped in and shook her head in disbelief at what I'd been up to.

One would have thought that after such 'incidents' I would not have been allowed anywhere near animals. Well, that would be wrong. By the time I was 8, I had another hamster, and I managed to convince my mother that it would be a very interesting experience to buy another one to make them reproduce. And so it was that we ended up with around 15 hamsters at some point. What was truly fascinating, though, was the opportunity to watch the process of Life from start to finish.

I was such a strange kid... I used to take one of the hamsters for a stroll with me outside, especially to the park. People would see that little girl walking around in the street with a hamster in her hands... And when I wasn't doing that, I was trying to tame pigeons, imagining that I somehow had a secret power to communicate with them and just needed to unlock it.
I guess I was already living in my own little universe... I lived on an estate, so a lot of kids of all ages were always playing outside, and I remember them making fun of me because I was sitting on the ground next to a bench with pigeons all around me as I tried to tame them.

The way I see it, I used to be one of those children who are cruel to animals... I really was cruel, but only because in my head, I was playing out different scenarios and wanted to see what happened in reality. I often wonder if that's not the case for all children (being perceived as cruel around small animals) as they push boundaries and discover their own limits. In the end, far from developing a cruel streak in me, it seems that all the 'bad' things I did served to nurture a much deeper sense of empathy and a strong dislike for unecessary pain. So it kind of worries me when I see all these parents out there trying to make their children so perfect and 'proper' when truly, childhood is the age of blunt honesty and the only time in life when there is time to discover our own boundaries before being forced to follow rules to the letter... I guess it must be different when children have a chance to grow up outside a city's settings... The issue seems to be that kids who are made to develop in cities lose out on the crutial need to explore boundaries which is brought about by the ability to roam free and, yes, do what adults look down on or would call stupid, senseless things.

27/01/2011

I dabbled in something new these past few weeks called internet dating sites. I had a lot of free time on my hands, and I was isolated enough to bother reading all the replies that would come through.

I started my little experiment with a gentle-sounding, mainstream kind of profile that went along the lines of this:

I like meeting new, interesting people who like to have a laugh but also enjoy a deep conversation from time to time... about pretty much anything!

I'm very open-minded and have a terribly curious nature. A bit of a kid at heart, I strive on creativity and am quite a laid-back person...

I'm very keen on arts, expecially painting, music and writing.

I guess I'm looking for that special someone I haven't met yet :)

Although I didn't put a picture of myself to go along with it, I started getting a few replies... But what replies! Most of them were so empty and generic, truly telling me nothing about the other person except what one would like to hear at best... so I decided to change my approach (why not, I had the time after all) and created another profile when I happened to feel more frustrated by life in general and its complete lack of sense. But when I say life, i should really say its people, and their lack of meaning for themselves. Indeed, there is nothing 'wrong' with life or the world (as in planet) as such, it's just the way people impose a very limited vision and understanding of it that gets me - because I, too, have to live in those settings imposed, and I have to put up with their limited ways that end up ruling the world just because, well, they constitute the majority.

So here's roughly what I ended up writing in that new profile:

If you're one of them who like to list their interests, don't bother replying to me. Why? because I already know you.

If you're like all the losers out there who believe in the notion of a so-called career, or your dream is to earn lots of money so you can be 'happy', I hope you choke on your own vomit.
Why? Because you're a fake who not only fell for all the lies of this world, but contributes to its mess.

If you're one of those who think they are clever just because they manage to go through the motions of getting a high school diploma or a degree or whatever else that gets you a nice piece of paper in the end, and then see nothing wrong in being made to dress up like a pinguin (suit and tie) while getting stuck every single day of your life on a packed train to work, I hope someone poaches you some day.
Why? Because you're already dead inside.

Well, I thought such words would lead to even fewer responses, but I was wrong. I started getting way more messages than with the previous one even without a picture up. Did the quality of responses vary in any way? That's open for debate - which is why I'll soon be posting sample answers here for any analytical mind out there to assess for themselves.

At first, I was intent on replying to every single message that came through. The way I saw it, it was allowing me to flex my brain muscle a bit and I was getting to excercise my writing skills... It's by doing just that time and time again that a pattern began to emerge in the way people would reply or rather react, to my profile. Indeed, I can now safely categorise (yes, that's right, categorise) the type of reactions/replies I got based on the overall number of messages I received.

So what categories emerged exactly? Well, three main ones, which one is free to sub-categorise further, but in essence there is still a prevalent pattern of thoughts that people seem to belong to more than any other in particular.

1) The mainstream, brainwashed type that appears unable to see beyond today's majority views. That type of person usually reacted very badly or aggressively to the profile. They often feel personally 'attacked' and unable to see past the strong words I used to dwell further on the issues I'm hinting at. A closer look at their profiles, coupled with a further exchange of thoughts with them at times, showed that they belonged to one of the categories I criticised severly... in fact, they didn't just 'belong' to one of them, they saw absolutely nothing wrong with it.

2) The shallow, generic type: now that's a category that includes all the people who don't even bother to read profiles. Instead, they have picked up the habit of simply cutting and pasting the same message without even bothering to customise it according to the person they're writing to... Quite easy to spot after you start getting half a dozen of those a day... Or when they forget that they've already sent you their generic text, and send the same one again 2 weeks later.

3) The open-minded, more thoughtful type: all the people who actually take the time to respond to points raised in the profile. With them at least I got to exchange some interesting intelectual points, although the exchange often withered to nothingness due to a lack of interest in doing anything more than just... think?

Did anything come out of this? Not really so far, but since I set out to experiment without any precise expectations in mind, the opportunity to further explore how people tend to think was good enough for me.

Ah, of course I had to bear in mind that I was using a dating site, therefore I also had to remember that the main purpose for most of those who use it is to find love, or a one night stand, or just to meet new people, etc...

Now, the other interesting aspect of such sites is of course the way people choose to portray themselves, and how they describe what they're looking for... But I think I'll get into that a bit later.

"Where is she, where is she," whispered the ghost as he leaned closer to the surface. The water was so still, but his breath stirred it gently. The trees behind the ghost grew taller and began to shake their limbs in the wind. The water grew still again, and the ghost leaned ever closer over its edge. "Where is she..."

This time his breath stirred the water deeply; waves formed and collapsed on themselves and the ghost watched them wane before his eyes till the water was silent again, and even the trees had stopped shaking.
"Show her to me," he pleaded once more, for he had made the request many times before, and always the water showed him. But that night... something had changed. Something was different... something was missing.
"Show her to me," pleaded the ghost again, breaking the water's stillness with the urgency of his breath.

"She's gone," said the water.

"Gone?"

"Yes, gone."

The ghost let out a deep sigh of distress and with one shaking hand hit the water as though it could be seized to be strangled in anger.

"She's gone," said the water again, and the voice echoed beyond the trees that had grown so tall behind the ghost. "And she won't be back."
But as the water spoke, an image formed on the surface, like a shadow. The ghost grew silent and still at once, one hand immersed in water. He watched his face disappear in the reflection and hers replace it.

"There you are," whispered the ghost, and his breath became the wind playing in her hair. "I was looking for you..."

"But you never found me," replied the reflection.

"Remain with me," pleaded the ghost, and with his hand tried to stroke her face. The water stirred and the reflection began to twist to nothingness. As the ghost cried, the swelling river hushed him to sleep, till only the wind could be heard playing in the trees behind him.

"Gone she is," sighed the ghost softly.

"And she won't be back," sung the wind.

26/01/2011

I woke up very late today, past midday actually... I've been feeling ill for the past few days, but the arm seems to be doing slighly better now.

Actually... I opened my eyes earlier than that, looked at the time on my phone: 10 am. I threw the phone away from me to the other side of the bed and closed my eyes to sleep some more. I hadn't finished a dream and I wanted to see how it ended. I fell deeply asleep again and my eyes opened at some point, so I clumsily reached for my phone to look at the time: 12pm. Since I'd overslept already, where was the rush anyway? I wondered how long I could carry on sleeping like some hibernating animal. I laid in bed with my eyes closed and finally decided to drag myself out of it...

It was lunch time at the primary school next door to where I live. Kids were running and shouting in the playground. Some were playing with a ball, others were clearly playing tag, or whatever the game is called in English where one kid runs after all the others till he can catch one and the latter becomes the one who has to catch the others. Some kids were gathered around a wooden construction you often find in parks for kids to climb and play in. Shouting, laughing, running about and panting... Most of them wearing thick coats to shield them from the cold weather, except for one little girl who was playing a ball game and who seemed completely oblivious to the fact that all she was wearing was a blouse and skirt, her long ponytail of red hair dancing in the wind.

I stood motionless by the window just watching the little kids for a while. Right now, I can see parents gathered in the playground to collect their children, and the crowd of people is slowly trickling out of the school to go home. The muffled sound of high-pitched voices is drowning in the music playing in my room. In about 20 minutes or so, all will be silent again.

While on the tube yesterday afternoon, I watched the diversity of people sitting or standing around me. There was a family with a very strong cockney accent talking about some football game; next to them was a pair of people in black suits and briefcase, their faces still and expressionless as statues; next to them was a lone old man reading a book, and next to me a woman who had fallen asleep, while the woman sitting on my other side was also reading some thick book. Three teenage girls who couldn't be older than 15 got in at some point and went to sit opposite me. They sat in the same careful fashion as adults do, talking in all seriousness about what they were going to do next. I looked around at all the faces around me one more time and then closed my eyes to listen only to the music in my ears.

As I came out from the tube station, I walked past a busy pub around the corner from where I live, and saw groups of young, trendy people standing at the bar with glasses in hand as they chatted and laughed away as if nothing was the matter ever. Suddenly, I felt exactly like the guy depicted in the movie Into the Wild... there is that one scene in the film where he watches young, trendy people in suits enjoying their time inside some bar and the thought of him ever being one of them throws him in a deep state of panic that leads him to flee the city at once.

The wise know that the point was never to change the world or its settings. It could never be done because the basis of life is random in itself. You could take any child from the start and bring him or her up in the most perfect way, with the best of ideologies or thoughts, and be trumped by life, or nature itself. No matter how the world happens to work, whether it worked in the most perfect or logical ways, or the opposite direction, it could never include everyone because you'd always get rogue elements working their own way. And why is that, I wondered for so long? Because the mere fact of being human, our faculty to think and reason to an extent, entails that we possess a certain degree of free will as to the direction we want take our existence. It was never about the 'world' as such, but about the journey, regardless of the settings we are randomly thrown in.

That journey, whether we like it or not, is what shapes us from the core of our being. It is what will ultimately lead us to think and act in certain ways and not others.
The point is to become aware in such a way that we no longer take random steps forward for ourselves just because others walked that path before us, or because it seems easier. Instead, we become aware of what makes more sense than not, and what works in a way that fulfills us...

People often like to say it's a good thing to be true to yourself. But what is 'being true to oneself' exactly? Such words remain meaningless until or unless a person goes through the process of defining for themselves what their own self is about... and once that's done, that's when it makes sense to say: be true to yourself.

And once one can be true to themselves, that is when the world's ways and settings no longer matter - because one can at least try their best to follow the direction that is in sync with their true self, and the only thing that can impede on that fulfillment are circumstances. Intrinsically, though, they remain faithful to their vision and understanding regardless of what they are able to achieve in reality, and that alone becomes a footprint in the sand for others to choose to follow or not. That's the point, you see. That we all get to choose. The only trick is to find the desire to use that ability to choose wisely rather than blindly.

Contrasts + Colours = Life

24/01/2011

Woke up with the worst pain in my arm. It'd actually started the night before and I thought nothing like a good night sleep to make it go away. I was wrong. When I woke up, I felt shooting pain whenever I moved it.

The pain didn't stop me from getting dressed, wincing and swearing under my breath. Isn't it one of the most frustrating things of all when your body is getting in the way of things you want to do? We take the easy, painless ways the body works for granted until pain strikes, I guess. Though we'd rather never experience pain, without it there would be no means for us to appreciate the opposite state of being. Contrasts and opposites, as always, make up the core of the living experience. Reaching a state of only 'happiness' or joy, without any more worries, fears or pains would be like a painting displaying only one single colour. You wouldn't even bother to know the name of that colour after a while, because that's all there would be, that single colour all over the canvas, and no contrasting one to bring it out. After a while longer, you wouldn't even notice that colour at all anymore.

That is why human existence precludes us from ever reaching perfection. We can only strive toward it as an ideal aim by bettering ourselves and our environment in general - but perfection itself is at best a single moment in time that cannot last for it would defeat the purpose of living by lasting. The paradox really is that by being able to reach perfection, we would instantly lose it because we would end up taking it for granted, meaning that it wouldn't be long before we start seeking beyond perfection itself. Or we would just stagnate in that 'perfection', which means we might as well be dead or frozen in time.

How does an abstract mind become concrete? Is it even possible?

If someone came to me tomorrow and said: "Aliska, you can leave real life behind and live through the realm of dreams only - as a mere floating current of thoughts," I would agree at once. I wouldn't even think about it, I would jump for joy and take it. Ultimately, that is what I always wanted since I was very, very little. That seems to be at the core of my contradiction within. I end up feeling like a caged lion cub who never got her wish granted to roam free, and with the years developed the defiance to prevent anything in this world from charming me.

I don't like human life. I don't like biological life on Earth. I don't like anything about this world, its natural laws, its clockwork mechanism. People try too hard to see 'beauty' in things, but the bottom line is that Life itself is mere flesh and blood moving around, getting eaten by predators or sickness, and making meanings up just to feel less pointless.

21/01/2011

What a fine day this was with myself and I... I woke up late, but it was alright because I needed the lie-in. I got out of bed, poured myself some warm coffee and went to sit at my desk to do some research. At first the research was supposed to be focused on job ads, but it soon changed direction to focus on the state of investigative journalism...

Back in my last year of studies, I had a module on investigative journalism, which I'd selected because, well, that's the only type of journalism that actually defines what true journalism is about - to me. The lecturer was a 60 something American journalist who'd worked many years in the business of investigating big corporations and shady companies. I loved hearing his stories and tips, but his view on the state of investigative reporting in the UK was depressing. One thing he made clear from the onset: don't go into it if you're after the money, that field is the one that pays the less and that almost every single media outlet is reluctant to fund these days... Haha. No big surprise here, when one is able to observe the fact that most, if not all of the big media outlets are corporations of some sort themselves, or owned by shady magnats.

No money, no quick fame and glory? That is definitely something I could see myself doing, I thought at the time. Working in the shadows is much more my kind of thing, mainly because shadowy figures are always under-estimated and easily overlooked, leaving you some much-needed leeway to do things that actually matter.
People always love to be the head of the snake that bites, but that's way too easy to see it coming. Be the tail, I tell you, so no one can ever really predict when you'll sting.

So I was looking into these sort of things, and then some. And then I looked up at the blue sky and thought: "Let's go for a walk." And as I stepped outside the house, I was again surprised by the icy wind that seemed to wrap itself around my whole body at once... But the sunlight felt so pure, and vibrant against a pure blue background... My feet took me all the way down the avenue and I decided now was a good time to watch a movie, and so I did. I went to watch Black Swan.

What a strange movie this was... about a girl whose life revolves solely around ballet dancing, and of course a blind thirst to reach perfection. When she finally gets her big break, she gets to play the Swan Queen, which entails playing the role of both the white swan, and the black one - 'good' and 'evil'.
She was always going to be perfect for the role of the white swan, because that's what she had grown into as herself: pure, innocent and fragile to the core. To be able to play its opposite, she was going to have to delve deep into the other part of herself sleeping within, I suppose... One could assume that she was really suffering from something close to schizophrenia in the way that she dived into a self-universe of blood, self-harm and nightmarish hallucinations, but I prefer to see the intense way in which she loses herself as the process by which one reaches the deepest sleeping parts of the self - the darkest corners few ever have the power or strength to explore. The darkest parts of the self we would rather pretend our entire lives are not really there... The end of the movie was full of symbolism, of course... She could never be both good and evil at the same time, because fundamentally she was always the white swan... The only way she could ever manage to become a true black swan from the core of her being was by killing her self. Kill the white swan, and its opposite emerges unrestrained.

It felt incredibly powerful when while playing the part of the white swan, she suddenly falls down hard on the stage. That's when you know the white swan is about to die, and that's exactly when the black one emerges in all its intense, frightening beauty... yes, there is as much beauty and splendor to be found there. The price to pay however, is complete destruction... but does the girl care? No, of course she doesn't. She reached her own vision of perfection.

20/01/2011

Drifting along as time passes me by, watching others live while I dream life. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to adapt to this society as a whole… the clockwork mechanism which people follow to the letter more or less, or at least within a set of perimeters they are happy to remain contained in.

It is still a mystery to me how a majority of people manage to follow some sort of well-defined path throughout their lives (be born, grow up, work, mate, have children, die - with 'having fun' and distractions in-between) that is only disturbed by factors such as illnesses, other people interrupting the set pattern for one reason or other (getting married or divorced etc)… but always they seem able to follow a certain ‘direction’ from birth till death that is part of human life’s cycle as we know and accept it.

In essence, the basis of human existence seems to rest on: growing up, getting a partner, having children, all the while working for a living - and work becomes part of what gives us meaning and purpose, or it helps not to think too much about the latter. Everything in between these basic elements of existence consist of passing time and distractions - ‘having fun’.

I could observe Charlie (the hamster we got the other day) and draw pretty much the same conclusions. Being born, growing up and being taught by the mother all that he needs to know to survive on his own… then sleeping a lot, stretching his legs from time to time when feeling ‘safe’, climbing the bars of his cage, spinning in his wheel… and if there was a female around, get together with her to reproduce. The cycle goes on and on…

Maybe my problem is that I don’t realise the value of ‘life’ itself… I’m only able to observe its repetitive mechanism and I get bored of it, or something… I don’t know. It just feels so pointless.
But then… what is it that I’m looking for? Meaning, I suppose. I just wish there was an option to take that took you away from that mechanism of life as it is known on this Earth…

Maybe the only thing that matters is the padding, or what I often like to refer to as illusions… Instead of staring at the raw mechanism of life itself, which can be observed in nature all the time (plainly repetitive and to the point: be born, grow up, reproduce, survive, die), add as more ‘padding’ as you can… Just like adding props to a theatre stage that starts off as bare and empty. And if you focus on these ‘props’ that you add to the raw mechanism of life to make it look more colourful and less basic, then suddenly it becomes more interesting to the human thinking brain.

Isn’t that what we’ve strived to do since bygone times? One only needs to look at the literature, the arts and movies, for instance. We never depict the raw mechanism of human life, we pad it well with props… So that in effect we never see a story simply depicting two people copulating to reproduce, even though the main point of it is just that. No, we pad that raw element of the mechanism with props such as ideals of love, and others that become part of a ‘plot’. Take out all the props (or the plot itself that intrigues and captivates human imagination) and what remains? The bare mechanism of life as seen in nature.
So… maybe the key was always to add as many props to one’s own human story as possible. That way the blandness and repetitive pattern of existence remains better hidden from sight, and the mind.

So in the end the only thing that separates us from Charlie are the props and plots we're able to pad our existence with to give it the illusion of more contrasts and therefore make it more 'interesting'. Remove those props and everything is the same as it is for Charlie.

19/01/2011

Listening to this today... and just... dreaming. Looking up at the dark sky and the full moon bathing in a light mist, imagining the colour of more distant shores.

It was such a quiet day today... I spent most of it in a library I'd never been to before and which happened to be very close to where I live. One section of that library read: "Europe, Americas, Africa, Antarctica" so I had to go there, just because it said Antarctica.... and it reminded me of my younger self, when as a little kid I used to bury my head in books full of wondrous images of far reaches.

I grabbed a few books, went to sit at a lone table in the corner and delved into white landscapes... Then I looked up from my pile of books and started observing the people around me. There was a young man wearing a smart-looking suit sitting on a chair at the far end of the aisle, a book resting on his knees while he ate a sandwich. I wondered if he was on his lunch break from work, and I wondered what had made him decide to spend it inside the library. That's when I got up to place the books back on the shelves and as I walked past him he looked up and as our eyes met I quickly looked away at once. Yet at the same time I wondered what would happen if I walked up to him just to ask him if my wonderings were right: was he really spending his lunch break in a library, and if so what was his reason?... Just curiosity.

Of course I kept walking and placed the books back before looking around at the CD selection. By the time I walked past that aisle again, the young man had gone and in his place was a homeless old man drifting to sleep with his head nodding down. I imagined that I went up to him to sit on the carpetted floor by his side to ask him about his life. Of course I kept walking all the way to the DVD section this time, where I borrowed One Flew Over a Cuckoo's Nest, and which I watched as soon as I got home.

And now it's night again in the city...

One day after another, they pass,
Hand in hand, they glide
Through time, through times,
Joy, sorrow and pride.

One night after another, they pass,
Side by side, they fly
The coat of darkness falls,
Laugh, cry and sigh.

One day, one night must follow,
Shuffling the feet of time
To creep into the light,
And set the pattern free.

18/01/2011

If you knew me yesterday, You don't know me today;
if you know me today, you won't know me tomorrow.


Elapsed time
Of sand and paper
Burning like the seasons
There will be solace no more

When all the passions
And man's own deraison
trail the sunken ground
Of times vanishing beyond

Sand dunes in flames
By a frozen sun
at its zenith, the cries
Of a lone star beckons

The last of the dreamers
at sea, so lost and far
in the midst of a fog
That veils the world.

17/01/2011

Today's playlist included:

- Into the Wild 's Salvation Mountain

- Schubert's Ave Maria for violin

- Meet Joe Black's Whisper of a Thrill

Making plans, sorting things out, facing reality... It's all about believing that you can do it, whatever it is, because if you don't believe it yourself, then who else will?

Time to set sail...

16/01/2011

Too soft

Always was, always will be.

Listening to this at the moment...

"Feels like fire...
I'm so in love with you
It hurts the soul
Make love your goal..."

I went out earlier to buy some food for the weekend. It was already dark outside by the time I stepped out the house, and with music blaring in my ears I walked down the long avenue. It's a good 20 -minute walk from there to get to the supermarket. Oblivious to everyone, the cars and flashing lights everywhere, I paid attention only to the ryhthm of my own footsteps, and soon enough I was lost in deep thought.

I was thinking about life in general, and what I was supposed to do next. I tried to be brutal with myself, questioning what it is exactly that puts me off so much from doing anything at all... Why am I not trying hard enough to find a 'good' job for instance? I mean, I'm bright, I could pretty much do anything if I put my mind to it... By now I could be anything I want - if that's really what I was after, of course. I could have been anything in this world, because I have the brains for it. Yet... I don't believe in anything this world has to offer... I could try and become 'somebody'... I mean, isn't that what most people aspire to become? They want to become 'somebody', get a good job that sounds good when you tell people what you do, that gets you good money, etc... There is something so intrinsically wrong about believing in that shit...

What I'm after, I'm afraid now I will never be able to find it anywhere because what it is I seek can't be seen with the naked eye. I'm a mystic, an idealist, a dreamer... The world turned me into an eternal drifter in search of the unfathomable.

I'm a phoenix bird bursting into flames time and time again only to be reborn the next moment. Not everyone can cope with that sort of creature, and I do understand that to an extend. And when I talk of being a drifter, I mean to have reached a stage where nothing concrete or material can ever hold a grip on you again, because you've already detached yourself from all that is fickle, bound to be lost, to reach the higher plane of existence. It makes you a drifter because you can no longer fit in with the rest of them who remain immersed in the limitations of a material reality. What you get to see with so much more depth, they cannot see. What you feel, they can barely guess. You become a drifter in search of what everyone else seeks to ignore: true meaning.

I suspect, and always have in a way, that the only thing that could ever tame me is love. Nothing else in this world can reach me. Not tame me in the sense that it would imprison me, far from it... It would finally give me that inner balance I've been seeking, or it would at least allow me to reach it within.

Either that, or inspiration. Inspiration is easier to find... if you have the eye within to see it in the most unexpected places... a wintry landscape that looks dead and boring to others, but to you, it whispers words of beauty and wonder... A lone crow standing on a blanket of leaves most would look at in disgust, but to you, it suddenly becomes the symbol of the notion of alienation in the way all the other birds remain at a safe distance from it... A child laughing on the swings... A sunset... a sunrise... Half a moon vanishing behind the gloomy veil of night...

Things fall into place when the time is right.

15/01/2011

Looking back on last year, I have a hard time believing that so many little things happened, because at the same time it feels like a distant memory already...
Did my uncle really come to stay with us all that time? He arrived in July, and then left for good in early December... All these months he was with us... And during all that time I was spending my time chatting online with mostly Indian people.

Then uncle left, and so did the chatters, one by one. Even the ones that had promised never to leave, they left. I don't know why I care? They all say 'it's the way it is with the internet.... you have to expect to hear from people one day, and lose touch with them the next, just like that...'

You know what? Chatting online is a trick of the mind that gives you the illusion of not being alone, but really, the reality never changes that you are alone.
It gives the illusion of making new, meaningful friends, and perhaps that is the case with one person you chat to out of 1,000 bad ones... But apart from that, you are never making real, 'meaningful' friends at all.... It's all an illusion that lasts as long as the people bother to show up online to chat.

Here's the painful conclusion I have to draw for myself: I have wasted the last 6 months of my life chasing ghosts.

So... where to go from there?... That's the big question that torments me now... How to make the pain in that heart of mine stop long enough for me to finally be able to catch my breath?

14/01/2011

Infinity

I spent the day away at the beach yesterday. Upon arriving, the sea had retired, leaving miles after miles of sand and pebbles that vanished in layers of grey and brown smudges all the way into the distance... seemingly melting with the heavy skies.

At once I was reminded of old verses I had jotted down like a poem when I was younger...

I see monotony die and be reborn,
Waves unfolding along the shores
And my skin;
...
I see melancholy die and be reborn,
Days slipping by, Time vanishing,
Sucked into fractured morals.
...
Over there a tiny blue window opens…

Run away, run, again and forever!

The cool wind blowing in my hair, the taste of the sea on my lips... a deserted wintry landscape... Being able to just walk for hours and lose yourself in the beauty of just one moment in time, knowing full well that it can never be again, that each of them is as unique as it is destined to be fleeting... leaving behind all thoughts, which we forget on a pillow upon waking up for the day; leaving behind all the people and the world to exist only in the midst of a netherworld made of colours that look just like a painter's perfect palette...

That is what I needed. And that is what I is...

It hit me while I was in the shower, lost in a mist of steam and burning water cascading down my back. I could spend the rest of my life wistfully gazing between the iron bars of this life's prison, tears streaming down my face all day and night long... or I could suck it up once and for all and spend the rest of whatever time I have left to soar high above these bars.

But to soar above these bars, I need to accept that I can't remain so passive in my own existence... even if it means making tough choices and sacrifices in the short term.

12/01/2011

I woke up late again today... I went to sit at my desk with my morning coffee and stared at the exotic-looking pink flowers in front of me for a while. I didn't realise that tears were streaming down my face till the shouting of children outside woke me from my blank torpor.

I wondered about the notion of 'soul'... Mind, spirit, soul... doesn't it all mean the same thing? I thought that if there was such a thing as a devine spark in each of us, then where did mine go, and if it was still inside me, then why does it feel like it's burning?
See... I don't need to know about such things as hell or eternal damnation... I already live in what feels like hell, and nothing can take that feeling away. Joyful moments only help to numb the constant burning within.

Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains
- Jean-Jacques Rousseau

I remember studying the philosopher's writings back in high school. He was one of the big ones we had to study, especially for exams. The Social Contract, Confessions... I particularly liked the latter, because when reading his confessions, I could feel a man's heart being poured onto pages.

I wonder where all my inspiration has gone... Three years ago or so, i was hit by it so forcefully that I began writing almost every single day... sometimes I couldn't stop the whole day because I was in the middle of a certain chapter and I just needed to let everything out... I never felt more free and 'happy' than when I was deeply engrossed in writing a story. It just... flowed right out of me, and it felt as though I was truly living through my characters' eyes...

With them I traveled so far across a world I'd created inside my head and that was the basis of the story... It felt so real...

What a contrast to be sitting here today feeling so empty and depressed... I have to believe however that inspiration will come back to me, to either finish that story, or start a new one...

I need to create stories to feel alive, as weird as that may sound... Nobody has any idea what an incredibly mystic experience it is to write a story... to get so deeply involved with its creation that you can FEEL yourself within the story itself!... Well, nobody has any idea except another writer.

I miss it... It is the only thing in my life so far that has ever managed to bring me a sense of peace within. Spending my time researching all sorts of things for the purpose of writing a story... and then losing myself in the writing process itself... Such a peaceful, fulfilling experience.

What I dislike about it, though, is the fact that I always seem to be at the mercy of inspiration's lunacy.

11/01/2011

Streams of consciousness are made of these...

One thing I regret is not remembering in more detail about my stay in Warsaw when I was 18. Well, it's not that I regret remembering little, it just feels like a shame, in a way.

I remember my first day back at school there, though. I didn't know at the time if I was going to be able to stay in the country because I still didn't have a stable place to live in and my aunt had kind of dumped me in a hostel for the next 5 days. All I knew was that she was going to try and sort it out, somehow, but there was no garranty.

So I woke up the next day after spending most of the night crying my eyes out alone in that room. One look in the mirror made me cringe in horror: my eyes were of course swollen, puffy and red. I tried my best to conceal the damage with some make-up, got dressed mechanically, and with a map in hand made my way to that school, which was situated on the other side of the city.

When I arrived, I popped by the registration office where I was told where my first class was - as it happened the first class of the day was the literature one. I was already running late, so when I entered the classroom, all heads turned to stare at me at once... it felt a bit like in the movies, really. Or the zoo.
I took the first seat I could find and did my best to give friendly smiles all around. Of course the teacher asked that I introduce myself in front of everyone, so I did, and then I looked down at my notebook awkwardly.

After that class, it was time for the philosophy one, where I met one of the best teachers I ever got. Let's call him Mr V... A brash, outspoken middle-aged man who always wore red socks and who was never shy to remind everyone that he was a hard-core believer in communism - its essence rather than the way it had been implemented in reality.

That first week was rather stressful, in the sense that I had no idea if I would be able to stay longer... so it kind of prevented me from making any effort socialising with other students. I kept thinking 'what's the point getting to know anyone if I'm gonna have to leave at the end of the week?" By the end of that week, however, everything was finally sorted and I was able to stay for the whole of the academic year... but already people had begun to judge me based on first impressions, I suppose... and when I keep to myself, I seem to give off the impression of being aloof and arrogant.

One girl did end up approaching me rather quickly, though. Her name was the same as mine but we could not have been more different. Most of the kids in that school were either rich Polish ofsprings whose parents wanted to make sure they learned french fluently, or they happened to be the children of ex-pats.... People who worked in ambassies or ran big businesses away from home. This girl's mother happened to work in a French-speaking ambassy and they'd arrived in Warsaw a couple of years before me. She was well-integrated with other students but it soon emerged that she'd been falling out with people a lot in the space of those two years. Since I was the new one in town, she instantly approached me to start anew in terms of friendship, I suppose.

In a way, it was good that we met during that time, because without her I would really have ended up completely isolated. As soon as she learned that I lived in a hostel for young people studying away from home, she began to invite me to her place almost every weekend. That's when for the first time in my life I got to experience what it was like to live in a rather mainstream and 'conventional' family... Well, the modern type, really. Her mother was divorced and living with a new man and at the time they were planning to get married.

Her mother was so nice to me... And she was, I don't know... She gave off an impression of being stable and 'constant' - everything my own mother wasn't. We would spend our Saturday nights ordering pizza or KFC, and I would sit at their table feeling as though I was part of the family. The parents would then go out in town for the evening and me and my new found friend would hang around the house watching TV and chatting... when her boyfriend wasn't supposed to pop by for a visit. Everytime he did come, the same routine took place, really. She would disappear upstairs in her bedroom with him for a little while and then come down clearly looking like she'd just had sex. And then she would tell me all about it. That side of her fascinated me as much as it kind of put me off, in a way. If one was to make a generalisation, I suppose at the time I was playing the role of the quiet, brainy one while she played that of the superficial, sex-obsessed one.

One interesting aspect of being able to spend weekends at her more 'conventional' modern family home was that I got to observe how impressions often differed from the hidden reality - meaning that while families often try hard to give off an image of 'all is well' and 'everyone is happy', it only takes a closer look from the observer to start spotting the deep cracks.

So when I wasn't spending my time in the hostel among other young people I could never really talk to due to the barrier language, I was spending all my time with that new friend of mine. Whenever I was asked about my life back in London, I would make up stories. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to know the truth, mainly because it would have made no sense to try and explain. None of these people would have understood the chaotic and weird existence I had been leading for the past year or so. They were all immersed in their own little bubble of comfort and predictable lifestyles... The whole basis of today's modern way of life... and because they'd never experienced (yet) any real hardship in their lives, it made it impossible to expect them to be able to relate to my own experiences.

Well, one person did understand, and that was the philosophy teacher. And I'll never forget our last ever lesson with him. As we all sat in class for the last time, he glanced at all of us with a smirk and said something about how this year we had spent learning to think logically for ourselves would be lost in no time. He then went on to predict that all of us would be leading very conformist lives by the time we reached the age of 25... We'd all just fit in, get married, have kids, work hard for a career, etc... And while he said all this, the smirk never left his face.
That's when I got angry, mainly because I couldn't stand the thought of being told I was someone who would simply turn into a mindless drone. "Not everyone will end up like that!" I exclaimed, and most of the students followed to protest against his dismissive statement... But he just kept smiling knowingly and rolling his eyes at us. Then he met my hard gaze and nodded at me, looking amused. "Alright, alright. Perhaps not everyone," he agreed. "There can always be a couple of exceptions to the rule."

Well... he was right in his predictions, I suppose. My friend was married with a child by the time she was 23 and most of the others went on to build themselves a lucrative career of some sort that would have most of society nod and applaud with satisfaction.

But now I wonder more and more often: what was the point of being an exception to the rule when you end up paralysed anyway?


See these iron soldiers in the picture above? They looked stunning, watching them all the way from my bedroom window. One of the girls who shared a room with me in the hostel was a 17 year old who was said to be a little 'crazy' - mainly because unless she was constantly supervised, she wouldn't go to school or do her homework. She also had a habit of smoking weed from time to time, but at least she always made an effort to try and talk to me using the few words of English she knew.

One winter evening, and right after it had started snowing heavily, we snuck out of the hostel to wander about the streets together after smoking in the toilets. It was the first time I'd tried weed, and the last. I didn't care much about anything at the time, and I was curious. We walked about the deserted place giggling like crazy kids, and went to stand by these tall iron soldiers in the night... and the atmosphere suddenly turned mystical... eerie... surreal, even. I looked up at the huge iron faces and it was as though they were about to fall down on me to crush me with all their might. I grabbed the girl's hand and we started running away in the snow, laughing and panting, trying to 'escape' the iron men's grip... I could never forget that strange, unique evening in the night.

More often than not, I was alone wandering about the old town, though. I would throw away my books onto my bed in frustration, pick up my coat and rush outside to walk down the winding paved alleys all the way to medieval-looking ramparts... Or I would hop on a passing tram without a valid ticket to take me away at random... At some point I began to skip some classes, mainly history and latin, as well as sports. I would let my feet take me beyond the school gates without a glance back to wander about town some more... That's when I began to feel like a true drifter in this world... Surrounded by so many people, and yet alone always in my own head, my own universe within.

That one year in warsaw will always feel like a glitch in time, in a way... a dream-like experience that went by so fast that it left me dizzy for a while. Upon my return to England, I began to shut down completely. I didn't want to stay put, so I decided to attend a university outside London. The problem was that I had no idea why I was still alive. As far as I was concerned, now that I had finally left the realm of childhood, there was no longer anything appealing enough for me to keep existing. I didn't like adult life, never liked it. It had always felt like a prisoner's existence to me, caught up as everyone soon gets with endless expectations, a false sense of choice and random actions. I just couldn't see a point in anything whatsoever. No true point, no real direction that made profound sense... just an endless drift from birth till death. But at least as a child, I was allowed to believe in dreams... whereas upon entering adulthood, I was suddenly expected to leave all the far-fetched dreams behind to sink into society's own version of Reality.

I never liked it. I just... hated it.

The only thing that seems to make sense now is to try and follow my own version of reality rather than the imposed one. And never let go of dreams and ideals, but keep fighting the monster that tries so hard to take them away from us.

09/01/2011

It was a nice day out... We went to watch a movie with Russel Crowe, which depicted the lovely but naive ideal of Love and how the latter can push one to do anything to save another. Something like that.

Then we took the long way back home through the park. The sky was a beautiful clear blue... the sun was blinding... The wind as cool as ice. I was talking about the paradox between Fate/destiny and the idea of free will...

Well, here is my conclusion: it's all bullshit. We are not free, we never were, never will be. You think your MIND is Free, perhaps? You seriously need to get out of Lalaland for a bit.

Whatever anyone thinks... it has NO bearing on reality. Everything is fake and illusory. So.. The only way to reach some sort of peace of mind is to stop thinking too much.

That's right. The only way to survive and actually find something to be joyful about in this life is to IGNORE the settings (society and nonsense) - live in your bubble while ignoring everything else.

Achieve that, and you can be the proud owner of a dead mind. But at least you feel 'happy'... bless.

I HATE YOU.

This whole world is a LIE.

08/01/2011

L O V I N G

Loving, even in the silence, and beyond the unspoken words we feel so deep within... And even if my lips remain sealed, and my eyes are veiled with tears, I know that you will feel how much my heart was always beating in sync with yours.

So even in distance, and beyond all languages known to mankind, the beating of my heart will forever tell your own the story of a love that transcended every rule of reality.

I was wrong about so many things... I was another fool on this Earth thinking they know it all when they so clearly and painfully don't.

Many flowers present such intricate and mesmerizing patterns to them - geometry, symmetry, whorls and lines, bursts of vivid colours... It is as though they had been created by the most gifted of all artists, yet in all their detailed splendor, their existence is of the most fleeting kind. Gone in the blink of an eye! A gust of wind tears the most beautiful of flowers' garments at once... So fragile and fleeting is beauty... and splendor, and greatness! Yet their theme exists as s constant... It does not matter that the beauty and splendor of one flower should wane to nothingness, for the constant of that flower (its kind, or species) remains.

I don't know the name of these flowers now resting on my desk... all I know is that my eyes are drawn to them with the same fervor as they do when gazing up at the skies...

But you know what? I really don't know or understand much at all... so I don't know why I'm pretending that I do.

And I was wrong... about so many things!

Looking around at other people's writings and musings, I wonder what ever possessed me to want to share my own thoughts with the world... even as much as a discreet whisper.

I have nothing to say to you, or you, or them... It was always all about my own inner journey.

And it's time for me to to carry on that journey, without another look back.

07/01/2011

Looking, Looking
Never seeing
That Pain is a living...

I wander about this Earth - this planet that's never felt so small and bland by its very people who were supposed to add contrasts and colours to it...

A keen observer I became along the way, and Time, who was first a mighty foe, became one day my ally. Eyes wide open I dreamed, and sought to turn the realm of dreams into reality, like the Alchemist's vain pursuit of All.

Like the sea that comes and goes, loyal only to the eternal cycle of tides, I come in to greet you, and must soon retire away from you.

In this world, but not of it... There is nothing for me here.

06/01/2011

N O T H I N G N E S S
IS
A
VORTEX

B E A U T Y
I S
S K I N - D E E P

I N N E R
B E A U T Y
I S
E T E R N A L

I haven't had a smoke in 5 days. How amazing... Not really, I guess it's all about willpower. The first 3 days were arguably the worst... Now it's all about fighting the tempting thoughts... Breaking the habit.

I feel sad. Resigned.

I was thinking about Rimbaud on my way back home from meeting a complete stranger this morning. As I walked in the freezing wind, I wished again and again - and always in vain - that I could somehow sit down at a table with him just because... He would have understood. So would have Baudelaire. But they're dead. They've been dead for over a century and there seems to be no other soul out there that can even begin to understand what it feels like to have a mind like mine.

But that's part of the trick, of course... Of course there must be others just like me, and even better, deeper, more intense than me... I just never got to meet them.

05/01/2011

F r a g m e n t s
Of...

T H O U G H T S

W O R D S

Who Is I...

Who Is You...

Breaking every rule down... To gain insight into the core mechanism of the mind.

I is

Unreachable
Unstoppable
Boundless
Unfathomable
Beyond Words
Beyond Reality

Just like...

Flowing water
A sunlit morning
Two hearts beating As one
A flurry of stars
Scarlet leaves twirling
A dazzling carpet of snow

Edges of Reason.