In this vast universe, we are alone, but not without anyone. Like the world itself: flat to some, small to others. Humanity is sometimes superior, sometimes vile. Personality is a lie that has caught on far too well. Humanity is the prisoner of a fragment that has caught on far too well, and there is no one to tell it to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It thinks and thinks; it keeps on thinking. It dreams, and stops; I dream and dream on. It seems we might be capable of suffering within a delusion. We have turned pain into honey, mistaken explosions for spectacle. We have inflated it with inflation, wondering how far it would go. It was made as something unimportant, because it is unimportant. A voluntary participation in nonsense. A completely different otherness, a wrong that serves the right, a prophet without faith, a revelation without time, thinking the unthinkable… Language is not enough, the human is not enough, yet he dreams\u2014simply because he is human.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The indispensable breath, the unbearable life; without it the dervish does not take to the roads, the child does not play; there are no discoveries, no conquests, no first kiss… Sometimes it is not even about this world, yet it is worth worlds; the universe inside me is even more boundless. Sometimes it brings a childhood memory back to life, sometimes it makes me experience death; how beautiful… Whenever someone lays waste to the frame, I find it inside; I go to it, not to anyone else, gratitude to it, not to anyone else, desire from it, not from anyone else. Show me, make me speak, let me live myself through me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They call me crazy, say I am disconnected from reality; if madness means breaking away from the world, then I am utterly mad. I escaped the tyranny of reality and went to it. When I go to it, there is joy; when I leave it, there is life. If it exists, I exist; if it does not, I am condemned to reality.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To live like a dream, to dream like a life; the one who sleeps in the stream sees the stream, while the sleep of life is supposedly real. One who truly falls asleep in pain awakens while flying; give it to me beyond time, from the unseen, do not hold back from the impossible. I neither glorify memories nor indulge reality; my one and only master, I have opened the horizons. Reality is my enemy, you are my companion; the world is far too real\u2014you understand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Extend a branch to me, let me lean against a trunk, give me a place to put down a root; save me, keep me away from this world. Exist, out of absolute nothingness. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
In this vast universe, we are alone, but not without anyone. Like the world itself: flat to some, small to others. Humanity is sometimes superior, sometimes vile. Personality is a lie that has caught on far too well. Humanity is the prisoner of a fragment that has caught on far too well, and there is no one to tell it to. It thinks and thinks; it keeps on thinking. It dreams, and stops; I dream and dream on. It seems we might be capable of suffering within a delusion. We have turned pain into honey, mistaken explosions for spectacle. We <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1462,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[115],"tags":[155,440,442,40],"class_list":["post-1461","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-story","tag-creativity","tag-dream","tag-theory","tag-thinking","has_thumb"],"yoast_head":"\n