breakthrough

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