It only takes very little to rekindle illusion. One word or one gesture, one glance or one night of sex or one walk through a cobble-stoned street at dusk. then you forget how hard it all really is, how many times you've been Sisyphus pushing his boulder up the hill, or the minnow trying to hide from the sharks, or the bird of prey condemned to die because he has discovered compassion, or empathy, things out of the natural world that he inhabits...
i always knew I wasn't made for this world. when I was a child I had this fantasy, that I had been sent here as a kind of observer by the powers of that place or entity I had come from, for which, being six or seven years of age,, I had no better name than 'Imaginary City'. But I was convinced (I 'knew') that it wasn't something I had imagined, that it had a real, objective existence outside of my child's mind.
as the days wear on, so the glow of that magic moment -the night of sex with someone you love, or the walk through the woods- begins to fade and reality, with all its crushing infinite obtuseness, regains its place. again you stare at yourself while tiredly shaving in the morning wondering what it all is about. Life doesn't necessarily have a purpose and doesn't have to have one, we hew one out of the rock but it sometimes is such, such hard work...
No comments:
Post a Comment