Sunday, October 27, 2002

In search. Un grande passion.
Easy to give up. Easier to run. Thy time shall come.

Sitting, wondering, watching...above all, waiting. Always.

Kafka depresses the hell out of me. Most times, I have difficulty figuring out if what I understand is what he says or if what I understand is irrespective of author and word. I digress.Read Kafka's story of the King's messenger with the purported elixir of life for you and you alone.
I travelled with him, through the endless doors and teeming millions and inescapable distances. And I gave up. On him.Me I'm still banking on.

We sat on the portico today evening, me and the family. Three of us in comfortable silence. Suddenly felt so limited. Like this was my only universe and it is so 'not' going to last. And I missed everything I had ever let go of, knowingly, unknowingly, voluntarily, rebelliously....everything that added and subtracted to the simulacrum of existence.
Emptiness creeps in like blankets in an AC compartment. Just enough light to read by.

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