This is my borrowed reality. The other one, the real reality, I cannot convey into words for it is impossible to make something I create and apprehend with five senses into just words
(and even if an image is worth of one thousand words and one word is worth of one thousand words it is still impossible)
. So, in this reality I invented, I am black letters on a white background. Appealing to the shared knowledge of some experience
(when i say orgasm when i say taste of tomato soup or maybe talking about fumbling cats or the scent of something we thought had forgotten or of the blissfulness of something elating or the dread of something appalling amongst infinite other experiences)
, some repertoire that we
(we standing for a community)
partake, I live and am the stereotypes and clichés in other's heads, created and promoted by me.
(and even if an image is worth of one thousand words and one word is worth of one thousand words it is still impossible)
. So, in this reality I invented, I am black letters on a white background. Appealing to the shared knowledge of some experience
(when i say orgasm when i say taste of tomato soup or maybe talking about fumbling cats or the scent of something we thought had forgotten or of the blissfulness of something elating or the dread of something appalling amongst infinite other experiences)
, some repertoire that we
(we standing for a community)
partake, I live and am the stereotypes and clichés in other's heads, created and promoted by me.
No comments:
Post a Comment