The world feels surreal today. People, places events all just shadows dancing and dying around us as the light shines down through a carefully perforated sheet. Everyday a new set of tiny holes open and close changing the shape, the angle, the darkness, creating a sense of time and motion that isn’t really there. I wonder Marcus, if I too am just a shadow and all my words just soundless footfalls as I slink away, not tethered to any form.
What about feelings, he asks. A-ha! What are we without our proclivity for melodrama. How do we animate those silhouettes without tugging at their moods. It is what they called Maya, the ultimate delusion, where both puppet and master are at play.
Is everything you feel not real then? He is smiling now. A game Marcus, see even memory, as you begin to forget, is just a perforated stretch of time and looking through it, I can make my past anything I want it to be. What flavour do you crave today, love or pain? A double scoop perhaps?
What don’t you remember, he wants to know, the ice cream melting in his hands?
Anything I want, Marcus. Shadows casting shadows. Filling empty cones.
the same rock erode-
the eagle and the fish