a place

A Place.
A continent, a country, a city, a building
Neatly severed by invisible lines, visible walls

A place contains always more than you imagined
Smells, colors, shapes, feeling in the air
The texture of the carpet
The sharp and cozy tang of the autumn
Passants avoiding each other’s eyes
People using each other without meaning to
A quiet corner to disappear into

A place contains always less than you imagined
All the hopes and pretty expectations fade quickly in the reality
A battle with no chance of winning
No one glides through the maze of life
We crawl, we limp, we drag, we stumble
Sometimes we run to escape, sometimes in eagerness to arrive

A pretty picture, seemingly imitable –
Once captured, we try to wedge the reality in its frames
We build a shrine, a surrounding, a whole world in our head
When reality overwhelms us, that’s the place we go to
We are kings and queens, the absolute dictator in a one-person republic
We are slaves to our dreams and wishes

Dreams and wishes
Why do we have them?
Without them the reality hurts too much
They are our drugs of choice
Anything to make us hurt less

Simplify if too complicated
Elaborate if too boring
Beautify if too ugly, too naked
Love, sorrow, desire, fun, despair, fulfillment, hollowedness, empowerment, mocking irony
You can add every flavor or life in the poor makeshift imitation

We slap the bandage over our bleeding hearts hoping to heal the wounds
Yet when we rip it off, the blood still drips out in the same rhythm
All we have gained is a distance in time
All we manage to do is to delay

Delay everything – to our deaths.

What is hurting?
Something only hurts because we expected something else

Improve – says the idealist
Improve = now + something better, draws the mathmatician
Define better, says the lawyer
Compare, says the sociologist
You know it already, says my heart


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