Genesis

As the remains of the defeated sickness forsake my recovering body, I find myself faced with a reality I hadn’t until now fully comprehended.

Spending my days between book pages, moving streets or touching these plastic letters can no longer be gratified as a daily task. I look around, then turn to my inside, and yet don’t seem to find the answer, not even a clue. It is on that particular moment, on that exact second, that my doubts regained sovereignty over my thoughts.

As I cannot call that state panic, for the lack of true explicit agitation, I could instead refer to it as a state of astonishment, that which is the immediate trailer of shock. It is a moment of pause, a moment of admiration, of examination, a predecessor to the act itself.

With whatever information one might possess, a decision must be obtained. Action is inevitable; it is the only true presence.

If I was to be my self, I must start with being, which is nothing but a state of action.

As time flies by, I stand still looking at the residues of my past and present life, thinking, and sometimes writing it, of ways to be. I have been thinking and expressing the desire to self fulfillment and perfect autonomy for countless months and numerous sentences, but yet haven’t reached but so little.

It is so. That shall be the title of this episode; that shall be its happenings.

« Je discerne avec peine ce que je vois avec les yeux de la réalité de ce que voit mon imagination. » Achim d’Arnim, Contes bizarres.