Am bored to death being scared, bored to death trying to pretend not being scared. But I suppose its necessary faking courage if it fools the predator whos attracted to a face of fear. But all this fakery, isnt it a compromising way of life which keeps the body intact at the price of a soul thats flown ? Im bored being afraid to pass through the doors of of an estate agent, bored with catching panic when I hear the sirens of the Emergency Services. And yet, as I look across my room, I see another kind of emergency, a natural emergency, a pink emergency of hyacinth blooms. Doesnt this emergency exemplify the Lebanese poets words about lifes longing for itself, a force greater than the fear which dictates retreat back to the subterranean shelter where I crouch with my arms drawn tightly around me ? Choosing to live is too daunting. And oh, the scent of these hyacinths. And I sliced a cucumber half an hour ago and what a wonderful and powerful scent was released into the kitchen, so cleansing and cutting right through the oily dust of fear.
Posted on: Wed, 29 Jan 2014 13:43:20 +0000
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