Tuesday, 9 September 2014

Subjectives

Shadows can be so often misunderstood. Like words, sometimes they hide their true nature. Like bright colours, sometimes they distract. Like old memories, sometimes they draw you in and try to drown you. Like walls, sometimes they trap you inside while lulling you into feeling protected.


How does one dismantle bits of oneself while leaving the rest untouched? Or would that be an impossibility? Or a paradox? The world inside is such a distorted reflection of the one outside.


A chink in the armour, or a window to the prison? Which faces to keep and which faces to throw away? Ah! Choices, choices.

Feeling: stuff
Listening to: Ramin Djawadi - Behind enemy lines

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