Wednesday, August 15, 2007 the unbearable lightness of being.There is a startling new sense of kinship, with the petrified statues on the main entrance of Gaudi's Sagrada Familia. It can be any one of the ten million statues, really. You know how it is - they are easily distinguishable from one another by their various shapes and sizes and expressions and facial contortions. But they are just too many of them, that any notion of marbled individuality is defenestrated upon its moment of recognition. Relentless buffeting of something new and foreign has that effect on everyone - everything subsequently blends into a throng of decaying white. What was I saying? Yes. Forever doomed, they are, to perch on the lofty arch of the solemn gates and condemned to mutely observe the living below. Would that they be able to fly away from imprisonment, or take in that sweet breath of forbidden air, to divulge a hundred years' worth of untold stories, those bespeaking of life and loss, in a single sigh of consciousness. I wonder how it is like to have time-locked lips. I wonder how it is like to be denied of thirst. I imagine it to feel cacophonic silence, and I wonder if it is cousin to my own. By the time I finish wondering, the insane four-legged creature in my house, also known as my dog, will probably start to develop the speech-pattern of an elephant and the magical prowess of a turnip. And the next thing you know, he'll be laying square eggs and hatching baby lobsters. Bless. she procrastinated @ 02:16 | |
blueprint I will like to spend my days, as though they are my own, which I mostly end up doing in halves, for duty beckons, and I am answering its clarion call. Soon enough! I am also a veteran procrastinator. fresh monodies 'and, so it is.' previous rants August 2004 treatises on life arty jen frivolous pursuits for shallow ppl mulling over "One is wicked, because one see things clearly." - Beaumarchais's Le nozze di Figaro.And there were phlegmatic souls.
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