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theShay β .urcus
Published: 2008-01-20 16:30:54 +0000 UTC; Views: 349; Favourites: 5; Downloads: 0
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.spre sus, pe pete albe.departe.
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Comments: 12
actually it wasnt an out of focus frame.. but a drawing scanned and then blured with gausian blur.
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edges to make the bends softandsafeandwar like that underwater tango
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i have seen them when descending, and ascending i would walk, along the steps and whiter paths that rise before me, talk before me. there are reasons i should climb and cling on skies and swing on clouds, enough that such paths i would make. and take. out of dreams protruding dawn, come these narrows and above my head, above my bed, the last thing i would see are the stairs to some cleaner place.
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.and what can you do when promised a cleaner place?you walk and climb thousand white paths only to find your self stranded on an empty form without any place to go.when your dreams of calm, solitude and peace end brutally with a sharp white edge, what can u do? looking up you can see the peace and solitude mirage you ware chasing, and down lays the filth and tormented reality you ware trying to escape.so now the escape has become an entrapment, as trying to return to that reality once feared and hated you see the white and pure stairs betray u, as they disappear just before setting your foot on their whiteness.now your pure dawn had become your cage.and what do you do?you spend your remaining days dreaming of the freedom u had in realityβs filth.
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"i've arrived here this morning, but the day is neverending. the light doesn't cease tormenting me, and i feel exposed. the walls were white, but now there are red stains where i banged my fists and head... and heart, trying to get out. it was useless so far."
the writing i beheld on the fresh white floor told of others as they dimmed out in the light of a sky too bright... clouds are passing by, above my head, running fast but pacing slow, on their way to the ground... on my way to the ground.
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is this my only way? could it be that this illusion of freedom made me a prisoner in my own body? am I reduced to a living corpse waiting to be devoured by black birds? i look down once again to the writing. the floor is perfect. white. reflecting everything. every stain. 4 walls. the bright sky. clouds. white and pure clouds... why canβt i fall upwards? a white surface only with a written warning. my face.
the reflection of the running clouds make me dizzy. now everything is bright, as light made its way inside my freedom. i am surrounded by brilliant white light. but soon i cannot open my eyes. It burns every part of my exposed body... I faint.
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wow.. cat de dubios! urci in ceruri
nice
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