Et de ratage en ratage, on s'habitue à ne jamais dépasser le stade du brouillon.
La vie n'est que l'interminable répétition d'une représentation qui n'aura jamais lieu.

---Hipolito, Le fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain

Friday, August 7, 2009

Symbolism Reigns

It's been a while since I've had dreams of falling.
Willingly bringing myself to jump and fall ...
into oblivion, into that darkness.
I never truly know what it feels like to hit the bottom
-or what is it- exactly, for that matter.

This time, however, I know I landed and survived the fall-
when I landed, I was on my feet,
my back: a diagonal line, knees bent, eyes facing forward...
ready to leap again -or run- if I had to.


This time, I didn't fall alone.
There was always somebody there, willing to try it out:
to jump, to fall.
I'd always tell them how to let go.
We would run towards the great opening,
in itself adorned by many a hedera -more often than not-

and we would take a leap, right into it.
Structures stood erect as we began to descend.
As I landed...
I noticed nobody else was there.



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Now playing: The Real Tuesday Weld - La Bete et La Belle
via FoxyTunes

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

A Bit of Wa[l]king

Tarot card from the Rider-Waite tarot deck, al...Image via Wikipedia


I spent the day with my sister of eons [a.k.a. one of my most beloved friends]. We walked quite a bit.
You see, college begins next week, and everything is beyond surreal at the moment.
She's been re-admitted at the Faculty of Natural Sciences [for Biology], and I am attending the Faculty of Humanities for my very last semester.

It's been 9 years ever since I first walked through the shadowy, foliage covered paths; 9 years since I had no voice; 9 years since I first became immune to shells and their echoing protection. I cannot recall a time in which I honestly thought that I went through all this for a good reason-in fact, I rarely believed I'd ever make it through, and yet-once I did-I kept aspiring for more. Well, as a matter of fact...I still do.

It shall be a time of transfiguration and shape-shifting. Somehow, I find myself being calm-too calm, in fact. It makes me wonder if I am truly ready for what's to come, or if I'm simply in denial. In the end, there's always an ironic circumstance in the spaces between change that leaks a wrinkle in time, and somehow certain comforting sounds, scents, or touches sift through.

In my case, today I have returned to a very familiar scent that reminds me so much of me, that after trying to move on, I missed a bit of myself. So, no need to fight it off, I thought. I bought it [and it was on sale, too!]. I am quite happy to say that aside from my make-up brushes, it was the only purchase I needed.

Need.
Next week...
The beginning of an end.
The celebration of a birth that is in fact overshadowed by the disappearance of a gypsy and his strings,
-strings-
that due to lucid exile I thought I would not be able to live without.

In the end,
One must always ask, "is it really necessary,"
to wonder about paths that will eventually turn up forking under your feet?

I know I do.
And I despise not having an answer.

But then again-
...I equally despise having one.


So this is how walking leads to an awakening.
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