Sunday, February 26, 2006
In Places, Empty Spaces
I am edging on the rim of growing up.The continuous narrative of existence is a lie. There is no continuous narrative, there are lit-up moments, and the rest of dark.
Looking closely, the twenty-hour day is framed into a moment: the still life of the jerky amphetamine world. Turn down the daily noise and at first there is the relief of silence. Then, very quietly, as quiet as light, meaning returns. Words are the part of silence that can be spoken.
I have learnt that nothing is gone, that everything can be recovered, not as it was, but in its changing form.
In fairytales, naming is knowledge and power. When I know your name, I can call your name, and when I call your name, you will come to me.
"Each person knows the extent of their own suffering, or the total absence of meaning in their lives." - Paulo Coelho, Veronika Decides to Die
Ethelinde at 10:05 pm