Prologue (Cont.)
To lay disturbance onto this cauldron of equilibrium as if, a heavy propulsing-object-sound, complete with a lurid honk, just rolled past; dying incrementally as it went out of the range of audibility. I checked the clock: 3:17 AM. At this late, it could only be a lorry heading for the brickfield near the shore, from where the noises of foghorns were coming from. Me and my family are newcomers to this area, it's only been two months since we have taken dwelling at our new tenure here. Our past address was at a different place, entirely different city altogether. Me designating things of being clamourous would have held together much coherently there... No. Even then and there, nights were quiet, quieter than here. They peaked peacefully after midnight, when the gates surrounding the neighbourhood were closed off and not a pint of disturbance could be spatially located. "The silence is both the canvas and the element; and with no outside-granules, the interiority of my being cried mortars on that belonging...". My life was not much different than here, things would unfold as you expect them to. I would not even bother plotting dots, then watch: if me, and the others around me deviated from the dots, maybe smudge them, shit and piss on them, coarse them with semen and vaginal lubricant, plot diagonal dots, plot parallels or asymptotic bends or even sketch antipodal dots altogether. For the primordial dots were always accentuated with nothing but submissive lines. Not associative or complimentary even- just submissive. Just ones that lined how things should be. It was a pitiably predictable existence. But maybe the bulk of people in my shoes would see little wrong in it: I lived a rather lavish life, I went to a prestigious private school, I had friends who were attuned to myself. "But as a wise man once said, the Devil nudges when one is perfectly cushioned on comfort". Did the wise man really say that?.......—
Funtitled #2
Portraits of Leo VII / Radiance