I don't think or if I do, perhaps, I think extreme. My mind is bewitched with two things at this moment.
1) The Wind-up Bird Chronicle.
I remember the feeling I woke up with the other day, a refined ache to seek darkness. The startling darkness of the psyche and space, unformed and undefined, tracing the peripheries of light. A disposition of discovering a dry, hidden well in my innermost existence. Stars—watch them in absolute desolateness. A piece of heaven of my own, sprinkled with stars; it would make me dizzy.
An unnumbered layers of surrealism, pages after pages, growing into a big lump of weariness—I have lost touch with reality. Even though I haven't caved in a well, I am certain of being overwhelmed with light after being in dark for long. Darkness has been a stirring rendition of death for me ever since.
1) The Wind-up Bird Chronicle.
I remember the feeling I woke up with the other day, a refined ache to seek darkness. The startling darkness of the psyche and space, unformed and undefined, tracing the peripheries of light. A disposition of discovering a dry, hidden well in my innermost existence. Stars—watch them in absolute desolateness. A piece of heaven of my own, sprinkled with stars; it would make me dizzy.An unnumbered layers of surrealism, pages after pages, growing into a big lump of weariness—I have lost touch with reality. Even though I haven't caved in a well, I am certain of being overwhelmed with light after being in dark for long. Darkness has been a stirring rendition of death for me ever since.
2) Dragonflies
The view out of the window the other day was polluted with loud buzzing dragonflies adrift into dewy air. I have been spotting them almost everywhere. Perhaps it is one of those markers of living in one of the greenest vicinities, but I have never noticed them in such numbers before. The other late evening had atmosphere buzzing with cricket chirps, with an unusual rhythm—as if the night had been crooning the sad tales of dawn—buzzing from the ceiling near the window. One of the dragonflies came inside finding its way, slogging itself on the light bulb, and giving up and comforting itself under the bright light. In that moment, I was engulfed with its temporal beauty, and its wings seemed as if they were one of the most beautiful things in the world.
The sleek, crystalline wings with appeared as if it had threads of gold in them, flashing as light fell on them. Perhaps the wings were made of water. I stood there in the corner watching it seek its way, failing, and then comforting itself on the blinds. It was no longer there when I woke up; I assumed it stayed the night and escaped by dawn.
As I am writing this post my eyes are shifting towards the window, I still see them lurking, floating in the air. It looks like it will rain today...
Mum said dragonflies announce heavy rain. But a fancy feeling floating in my mind argues it to be symbolic of change.
[My mind shifts to the clairvoyance from last week: Major Arcana, The Tower]The sleek, crystalline wings with appeared as if it had threads of gold in them, flashing as light fell on them. Perhaps the wings were made of water. I stood there in the corner watching it seek its way, failing, and then comforting itself on the blinds. It was no longer there when I woke up; I assumed it stayed the night and escaped by dawn.
As I am writing this post my eyes are shifting towards the window, I still see them lurking, floating in the air. It looks like it will rain today...
Mum said dragonflies announce heavy rain. But a fancy feeling floating in my mind argues it to be symbolic of change.
I changed my mind. I hope these dragonflies linger around little longer.
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