She
is my half. The brilliant, shiny, adventurous half that makes me a marvelous
and quiet, yet complete lunatic. She has been the code breaker of my strange,
dyslectic, amalgamated but visually stunning world in my head. I am the
peculiar creator, but inexplicably the inept reader of my own nature. So I need
her wits to help me unfold the elliptic world to erase my fears. Yet, that
crazy and ambiguous dream realm my mind creates is the escape route during the
night that pushes me away in the abyss to save my own hide. As all the unspoken
thoughts and desires are, at the same time, guilty and innocent. Beyond all,
there was always a residual meaning that keeps floating in my conscious
perception putting together what I felt and what my skin remembered. Out of the
whole surrealist stage of that dream, what lingered the longest was the sense
of comfort in a bed that appeared out of nowhere on a sidewalk, cocooning two
strangers in a white downy linen. That man’s arm stretched over me to prevent
the fall. Later on, I realized why. I need him to cure my stuttering self, to
pat my soul and shoulders, to whisk the dust and paper clips. The hide and seek stopped
for a while, her words were the Ariadne’s thread that guided me out of my own
maze. She raised her head and looked at me with that expression of an old and
tired cryptographer and said “you have to enter a collision course to find the
right shape. It’s a matter of choice after all”. At any moment that there is a choice to be made, make one arbitrarily
from those not already marked as failures, and follow it logically as far as
possible. Unwittingly, I have already made all the wrong choices.
Photo: http://www.gettyimages.com/detail/video/moving-down-a-digital-data-labyrinth-stock-footage/160670441 - snapshot
