Tuesday, 5 May 2009
Sometimes a burst of colour seems more important than life itself. When the darkness suddenly descends one night, and the city-lights camouflage that essential darkness. When the cars whiz by reminding us of our pedestrian existence. What sad thoughts the lonely mind has at that moment. Sleeping pills or a nostalgic noose?
Stop then and think, she says. Stop and cry for the dead departed who cannot see that sudden gush of red,orange or purple. How stupid is tungsten and neon to illuminate that which cannot be illuminated, that begs for the sly shadows of the night? There must be interplay and intercourse between shadow and shadow, heat and dust, life and death,light and anticipation,laughter and tears. There in the tragic moment of reversal lay the greatest laugh.Senile old man, what picture do you take?
In the orange certainty of my last epiphany, when the cruellest month of April tried to take away my last breath and choking gasping dryness siezed my throat in an eternal yet temporal thirst...I turned to water.
There in the face of darkness I saw splashes of light.
An elusive fountain of lost longing.