I am chased by headings of possible write ups. At the most unexpected of moments, they rise before my eyes, take form, and present in all vividity. Then the almost terrible phase of hunting begins, the titles following me day in and day out, persistent,unyielding. Headings in all forms one can conjure up. For instance there is this "Symposium, Immortality, and Homosexuality: Foetal Ruminations". But when I begin to examine them closely, they tend to become slippery, my eyes get clouded. I struggle to chase them to their roots, following the trails. I walk behind them, speeds up, starts running. Then in some dimly lit alleys the trails vanish, leaving only the title behind. In the middle of the night I wake up with a start. I have this feeling that they at last is beginning to compromise. But they vanish again, to the realms where universe end. Where there is not even darkness.Villa of the Mysteries
I am chased by headings of possible write ups. At the most unexpected of moments, they rise before my eyes, take form, and present in all vividity. Then the almost terrible phase of hunting begins, the titles following me day in and day out, persistent,unyielding. Headings in all forms one can conjure up. For instance there is this "Symposium, Immortality, and Homosexuality: Foetal Ruminations". But when I begin to examine them closely, they tend to become slippery, my eyes get clouded. I struggle to chase them to their roots, following the trails. I walk behind them, speeds up, starts running. Then in some dimly lit alleys the trails vanish, leaving only the title behind. In the middle of the night I wake up with a start. I have this feeling that they at last is beginning to compromise. But they vanish again, to the realms where universe end. Where there is not even darkness.