perception
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Apr. 30., 2011 | 11:42 am
The night was cold but my clothes were warm and there was a sense of burning within me; it was left there by a hungry touch. This strange feeling of safety reminded me of a passage from Anne Rice's books, where Luis described his loss of fear regarding the destructive elements of nature; no sickness could not take him, no matter how severe the blizzard that tried to tear his body apart. No fear, just power. In his case it was the cold power of immortality, his curse and undoing. In my case it was like a warm armour that kept the coldness at bay.
We all emanated it tonight - the inability to cope with something. It was like a sharp sound that pierced the night, coming from the depths of our cores, all the while our faces contorted in masks of happiness. Each mask was different and very elaborate, as if carved by the greatest masters of deception that ever lived. It could have worked, if not for the sound that I heard as clearly as I hear the sounds of a distant city, the muffled voices in the other room or the whistling wind under my windowsill. The sound was elusive, yet undoubtedly oppressive with the heavy resonance in each of us.
The doors opened and we went into a well lit room that was filled with unknown faces; the faces were waving as if in a gentle breeze; a meadow - I thought - the grass is waving in the wind. The feeling was so surreal that for a moment it seemed my mind had finally given in. Then there was a glimpse of something familiar in the crowd; split second later his strong hand was shaking mine and his smiling face filled the field of vision. His charisma and energy as chaotic as before, but at least the knowledge of this familiar chaos was something substantial. An old love of mine; for a couple of moments he was the only monumental thing in my blurry vision.
Bubbles and steam were rising around me, muffling the sound of their voices. Plain, boring desire in their dull, watery eyes; their faces in bleak darkness, not illuminated by intelligence. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore them. In the silence of my mind a single thought came to me - the water is a conduit. I had to get out or else be cursed with their contagious darkness. The fragile state of my surreal perception was about to be blown to pieces. Paranoia - I thought - I wonder if this is what it feels like.
I was looking at the ground and I saw the sky, I enveloped the hills in golden fires, and watching the flames I whispered her name. The meanings of things were so subjective. The tension of surreality was about to crush me, and I retreated in the safety of knowledge that emotions were a real thing, no matter how they would come to life. I heard a voice. It told me our taxi was here, so I got up and went in the direction of car's headlights. I cought a glimpse of her through the glass door; giving her phone number to a married man. Framed in the window pane, so iconic. The destroyer - I thought - I hope you do not obliterate yourself, running like this.
We all emanated it tonight - the inability to cope with something. It was like a sharp sound that pierced the night, coming from the depths of our cores, all the while our faces contorted in masks of happiness. Each mask was different and very elaborate, as if carved by the greatest masters of deception that ever lived. It could have worked, if not for the sound that I heard as clearly as I hear the sounds of a distant city, the muffled voices in the other room or the whistling wind under my windowsill. The sound was elusive, yet undoubtedly oppressive with the heavy resonance in each of us.
The doors opened and we went into a well lit room that was filled with unknown faces; the faces were waving as if in a gentle breeze; a meadow - I thought - the grass is waving in the wind. The feeling was so surreal that for a moment it seemed my mind had finally given in. Then there was a glimpse of something familiar in the crowd; split second later his strong hand was shaking mine and his smiling face filled the field of vision. His charisma and energy as chaotic as before, but at least the knowledge of this familiar chaos was something substantial. An old love of mine; for a couple of moments he was the only monumental thing in my blurry vision.
Bubbles and steam were rising around me, muffling the sound of their voices. Plain, boring desire in their dull, watery eyes; their faces in bleak darkness, not illuminated by intelligence. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore them. In the silence of my mind a single thought came to me - the water is a conduit. I had to get out or else be cursed with their contagious darkness. The fragile state of my surreal perception was about to be blown to pieces. Paranoia - I thought - I wonder if this is what it feels like.
I was looking at the ground and I saw the sky, I enveloped the hills in golden fires, and watching the flames I whispered her name. The meanings of things were so subjective. The tension of surreality was about to crush me, and I retreated in the safety of knowledge that emotions were a real thing, no matter how they would come to life. I heard a voice. It told me our taxi was here, so I got up and went in the direction of car's headlights. I cought a glimpse of her through the glass door; giving her phone number to a married man. Framed in the window pane, so iconic. The destroyer - I thought - I hope you do not obliterate yourself, running like this.