It isn't quite possible to even acknowledge the beauty and wonder in the flow of your words, though I feel like while words fail, the meaning lies in the act of trying to pay homage. I enjoy how impossibly dense and slim your writing is. As I read your article, line after line, it feels like the clouds part way for the sky to reveal its deep blue hue. Each line, acting as a layer of meaning, has at least three different facets of interpretation.
See, how cruel the whites are: their lips are thin, their noses sharp, their faces furrowed and distorted by holes. Their eyes have a staring expression. They are always seeking something. What are they seeking? The whites always want something, they are always uneasy and restless. We do not know what they want, we do not understand them, we think that they are mad.” I asked him why he thought the whites were all mad. “They say they think with their heads,” he replied.
“Why, of course. What do you think with?” I asked him in surprise.
I think a lot about what it means to follow one’s heart, and it has taken me a long time to be feel comfortable with that level of surrender; but the way I experience life has fundamentally changed.
It isn't quite possible to even acknowledge the beauty and wonder in the flow of your words, though I feel like while words fail, the meaning lies in the act of trying to pay homage. I enjoy how impossibly dense and slim your writing is. As I read your article, line after line, it feels like the clouds part way for the sky to reveal its deep blue hue. Each line, acting as a layer of meaning, has at least three different facets of interpretation.
See, how cruel the whites are: their lips are thin, their noses sharp, their faces furrowed and distorted by holes. Their eyes have a staring expression. They are always seeking something. What are they seeking? The whites always want something, they are always uneasy and restless. We do not know what they want, we do not understand them, we think that they are mad.” I asked him why he thought the whites were all mad. “They say they think with their heads,” he replied.
“Why, of course. What do you think with?” I asked him in surprise.
“We think here,” he said, indicating his heart.
C.G. Jung, Memories, Dreams,
Soft, deep and beautiful. Thank you.
I think a lot about what it means to follow one’s heart, and it has taken me a long time to be feel comfortable with that level of surrender; but the way I experience life has fundamentally changed.