How perfectly strange to be suspended in time.
I always feel not really alive or dead when here. A hollow state of numbness mixed with anticipation of life waiting on the other side where I am, where I really exist.
It is like a hologram of myself would be projected in front of my astonished eyes without my permission. Displaced feelings and sensations muffled by the sounds of humming shadows.
I am surrounded by a thick fog swallowing what really matter, what is in my heart and soul. I want to be present but can’t. Not able to make perfect sense and put back together a puzzled without challenges and with all its depth. I want to learn but I stumble upon only old ideas briefly dusted by the delicate hand of the dead.
Bones remains rattling in my direction, the rest lost in history and hearsay, not trying to stop me any longer. I float, peaceful towards the rush of a huge water fall. I hear the thunder and the rush in a magnificent scream for life. I can’t stop: hurt or glory has no bearing. Consequence is so out of control only acceptance is allowed. The only answer is a smile, sad or joyous, nevertheless a smile.
I hold you in my dreams with this simple tranquility, not totally serene but consenting of the world beyond, its distance and contrasts. I hold you in my dreams but you hold me as well without touch without need, a light breeze on my skin, a cloud of your breath over the curtain of a long lost story.
A tale of exile.