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timpeltjeI cannot tell myself to just blindtype my way through a session of blogging anymore. I don’t know what happened. It seems as if something snapped within me, something that made it easier for me to just write whatever came to mind. I type this with my eyes clothes, focussing on the words as they spew forward from the brain, flashing briefly before the darkness in my eyes and letting themselves be shot onwards to my fingers.
I haven’t written with a pen in ages. I remember talking to a poet who said he couldn’t write with a computer because for him, his pen was the normal extension of his brain, as if the two were one. I never made the connection between words on paper and words in the head this literally, perhaps mostly due to the irritating characteristic of my handwriting to become illegible soon after production.
Out in the desert, a boy is strolling around on his bare feet, leaving imprints in sand that vanish seconds after they are made. Step by step, he loses himself more and more in the void around him. For the first time ever, there is some real silence. No radiation, no humming from a faraway urban oasis. An ideal zero decibel.
This infinite universe of sand is clearly not bothered by its lone traveller. Sure, imprints are erased and grains of sand replaced/misplaced, but the natural order of the desert is always maintained. It knows that soon everything will be back the way it was and nobody will ever know that there was ever a traveller there.
The beautifully cruel coexistence between boy and desert must end, somewhere, sometime. But there will be others to take their place...
I haven’t written with a pen in ages. I remember talking to a poet who said he couldn’t write with a computer because for him, his pen was the normal extension of his brain, as if the two were one. I never made the connection between words on paper and words in the head this literally, perhaps mostly due to the irritating characteristic of my handwriting to become illegible soon after production.
Out in the desert, a boy is strolling around on his bare feet, leaving imprints in sand that vanish seconds after they are made. Step by step, he loses himself more and more in the void around him. For the first time ever, there is some real silence. No radiation, no humming from a faraway urban oasis. An ideal zero decibel.
This infinite universe of sand is clearly not bothered by its lone traveller. Sure, imprints are erased and grains of sand replaced/misplaced, but the natural order of the desert is always maintained. It knows that soon everything will be back the way it was and nobody will ever know that there was ever a traveller there.
The beautifully cruel coexistence between boy and desert must end, somewhere, sometime. But there will be others to take their place...
