What if one day all that you know of things and persons and culture and the world would disappear, and you’d be left as pure as a white paper – blank, and knowing nothing?
Who’d you turn to, to ask the meaning of the white and the texture of the paper?
Would you recognize your self as different from the trees, would you feel like some-one? A person. Some different one from the other(s)?
Am I one?
Maybe all that really matters can be hidden in a shell or in a kiss, in the dance of the wind or drawn on one little piece of paper…?
He got to this point in his thoughts and the million-faced mirror-being woke up and laughed. It sounded like a quick running, fresh forest river.
And there was no paper, no sun, no tree, no kisses, no water and no wind. And absolutely no-one. Laughter, freehearted, that’s what it was: the laughter of the trees, the kisses, the wind, the water, the paper. And love.
PD: 14th class happened with a tiredness I can’t really measure. But it seems that my brain knows things, though it still cannot command my mouth pronounce it as it should be pronounced. Sigh.