velvetis
dead-awake...
In a way, the cognitive topography of an insomniac mind resembles the physical geography of a highly intricate labyrinth. The dead-awake, once lured by the glamor of the enticing gates at the entrance, half-enchanted, half-conscious, legs through it. Strengthened with a sense of senseless stoutness, she ceaselessly roams from one alley to another, eventually loses her sense of direction, hits dead-ends but nonetheless washed off by an all-too-human drive strives to drag herself to the center. She witnesses, day after day, the first rays of the swelling sun forcing their way through the sealed curtains. At this moment, for a few minutes, in insomniac terms, a fog of frenzied inertia starts to ooze out of the walls of the labyrinth, at one and the same time paralyzing and indiscriminately condemning to silence all that dares to appear on its way. No one should be deceived by this stranded illusion. After all, it was not only the mysterious gates that tickled the curiosity of the morbid interrogator residing in her so hard that the vibrations spreading from the violent laughter of this dominant tenant was about to destroy her one and only abode. When all is said and done, the role played by her vanity coupled with the desire to know what laid at the center of the labyrinth cannot be overlooked. Lack of rationality was not what had instigated this wild goose chase. As the chase to reach the center accelerates at a reeling rate, matter-of-factly, her reflection glimpsing back from the mirror smirks and spits back. And vanishes. What a vain, swaggering pursuit of something which does not exist. Which never existed. Indeed, in all likelihood, it was in the first place nothing but a telltale, a fanciful fabrication of deceitful minds intended to dull and thereby inveigle people into their labyrinth, a fairytale which is supposed to culminate in a satisfying, peaceful sleep. Frustration creeps in as finding the way out alive appears to be nothing but a dream, an impossible prospect for the one who can no longer fall asleep nor daydream...
dead-awake...
In a way, the cognitive topography of an insomniac mind resembles the physical geography of a highly intricate labyrinth. The dead-awake, once lured by the glamor of the enticing gates at the entrance, half-enchanted, half-conscious, legs through it. Strengthened with a sense of senseless stoutness, she ceaselessly roams from one alley to another, eventually loses her sense of direction, hits dead-ends but nonetheless washed off by an all-too-human drive strives to drag herself to the center. She witnesses, day after day, the first rays of the swelling sun forcing their way through the sealed curtains. At this moment, for a few minutes, in insomniac terms, a fog of frenzied inertia starts to ooze out of the walls of the labyrinth, at one and the same time paralyzing and indiscriminately condemning to silence all that dares to appear on its way. No one should be deceived by this stranded illusion. After all, it was not only the mysterious gates that tickled the curiosity of the morbid interrogator residing in her so hard that the vibrations spreading from the violent laughter of this dominant tenant was about to destroy her one and only abode. When all is said and done, the role played by her vanity coupled with the desire to know what laid at the center of the labyrinth cannot be overlooked. Lack of rationality was not what had instigated this wild goose chase. As the chase to reach the center accelerates at a reeling rate, matter-of-factly, her reflection glimpsing back from the mirror smirks and spits back. And vanishes. What a vain, swaggering pursuit of something which does not exist. Which never existed. Indeed, in all likelihood, it was in the first place nothing but a telltale, a fanciful fabrication of deceitful minds intended to dull and thereby inveigle people into their labyrinth, a fairytale which is supposed to culminate in a satisfying, peaceful sleep. Frustration creeps in as finding the way out alive appears to be nothing but a dream, an impossible prospect for the one who can no longer fall asleep nor daydream...