to look is to listen to insights on the mind's eye

For more or less a week, the conception of time was being thrown away. The only way to measure the signified chain of seconds is how far messages got accross, or how entangled relations have been built, or how wide smiles spread when two eye sights met, or of course how drops of growing-up lessons filled our bowls little by little. But still, most of the time it is not measurable.
Same place, different obstacles. This year,surprisingly I pity the people who already maintained unyielding definition upon own selves, who managed to choose paths self-enlightened, or shortly to people to whom I would have had my jaw fell in awe. I pity them for one stupid reason, namely how unlucky they would be to never indulge in the minty solitude deep within just by undergoing hours of trashtalk without sugarcoats with some friends in the middle of nowhere, looking around and sideways, far from walking fast in certainty to an oasis or nirvanas or however ways they're named. Most of the time, life is series of waiting rooms, and thus the likely question is how one can go past through that, with both solid dignity and the feeling of a company.
Accordingly, the past week was also my chance to gaze around my dessert. The smiles, the globules of tears, the laughs, the advance understandings, the streams of ideas, the complex minds poured into one simple language, the instant foods for both the stomaches and the thoughts, THE DETAILS.



"And so he had begun by vivisecting himself, as he had ended by vivisecting others. Human life - that appeared to him the one thing worth investigating. Compared to it there was nothing else of any value. It was true that as one watched life in its crucible pain and pleasure, one could not wear over one's face a mask of glass, nor keep the sulphurous fumes from troubling the brain, and making the imagination turbid with monstrous fancies and misshapen dreams. There were poisons so subtle that to know their properties one had to sicken of them. There were maladies so strange that one had to pass through them if one sought to understand their nature. And, yet, what a great reward one received! How wonderful the whole world became to one! To note the curious hard logic if passion, and the emotional coloured life of the intellect - to observe where they met, where they separated, at what point they were in unison, and at what point they were at the discord - there was a delight in that! What matter what the cost was? One could never pay too high a price for any sensation." -Oscar Wilde