Friday, November 15, 2013

Creux - Essence

Creux - Essence

Sometimes you write something that makes no sense.  Actually I write a lot of things that make no sense.  I have to toe a strange line between both being absolutely clear in the execution of my communication, but also give it a sense of artistic styling to convey how it should feel.

Sometimes I get it right.

Sometimes I get it wrong.

A boy sits in the pre-dawn darkness and discovers he cannot face the world outside.  So he splits himself in three, to confront the shadows of mundane tasks that lie before him, arrayed like a web.  He sends his restlessness to fetch the mail, picking its way across the cracks in a tile floor that yawn wide like canyons.  His irritability confronts the noise of the street outside his window, a soundless scream that tears through shapes of metal and glass.  Listless, he lethargically imagines a world where the crash of might become still, and silent like a blanket thrown over his own head.  So he sends his three selves into the world, that he might explore the depression in himself.