It’s so easy to understand why they use water in rituals of catharsis and rebirth. Walk into velvety seas, emerge slowly, blue skies reflected in your eyes… you’re someone new. Until they taught you how to see yourself as a Body and a Mind, you were whole, open, capable of pleasure and pain.

The maize is left behind. It was never my dream anyway. Had
to prove I could survive its darkness, and to a certain extent I did.
As the sun embraces me I peel off my snakeskin of cynicism. It
will grow back soon enough, but for now I’m allowed a break
from everything that’s hard and harsh and soulless. I’ll let my
self be hopeful, innocent, naïve, until the time is ripe to embark on different challenges.

Sometimes I think it would be nice to communicate this feeling.
It’s not like I haven’t done so in the past. Breathtaking moments they were, yet always shaped by the certainty of an imminent Ending, making them all the more precious…and devastating.
Real tranquil happiness I’ve only known in solitude; either dark, enclosed and melancholic or moonlit, awe-inspiring, elevating. Solitude nonetheless.

To be alone is not to be lonely. Beauty doesn’t need to be shared. Still, long ago they instilled in us the hope of mutual understanding,
which we can only ever pretend to overcome.