from the diary of an artist (II)

[…] afraid of the shapes of meanings i asked words to carry them for me, hoping that their colour wouldn’t suffer that much by doing that. then i realized that shapes are fluid. always. and so were my words, in their feeble attempt to hew to my will. i envied people like Borges and Dostoyevsky and Tolkien and so many others, for their apparent easiness in conquering the lines of the thought – until one day i finally got it. Borges and Dostoyevsky and Tolkien and the rest never conquered the lines of the thought. they simply let themselves conquered by those. it’s that simple actually: you pledge allegiance to the world of words and let it absorb you, consume you, until you become one of the roots through which they draw their life from ether. you become both their child and their parent, both their vessel and their core. you are one with them, aware that from that moment on you couldn’t live one more second without that symbiotic relationship.
as a beautiful coincidence, the same exact thing happened in the case of my feelings for you […]

 

© Liliana Negoi

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