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(148) Silfurlitaður

After I completed my poem called “Chiaroscuro”, I flicked on a livestream by Millennial Woes and he had a person in his group chat called “Chiaroscuro”—it’s synchronicity, confirmation from the principial that my poem is the correct interpretation; in other words, there is no point to life—life is a painting composed from darkness and light, if there weren’t contrasts there would be no painting; if looked at from one particular colour, life will seem all sweetness or all bitterness—yet whether happy or sad, something will be missing. What is missing is to stand back and see that the interplay between bitterness and sweetness constitutes the whole—it has no point, save to be beautiful in the interplay.

To receive such communications—a confirmation of the primordial Tradition—it helps to write as I do. The first thing an English teacher tells you is to “consider your audience”—who do you address and what do you wish to achieve? In a sense, the lesson is applied beyond English classes—everyone considers “who they address and what they wish to achieve”. I don’t. I don’t have an audience in mind—I just say what I see, think, and feel. That is why I am so particular—I’m totally partial, that’s why I feel universal. How does he know what I think and feel? Because I don’t start with an attempt to manipulate.

I don’t consider “how it will look”, I don’t try to convince you. Now what I say is particular, yet universal—everyone else wants something from you, categorises you (a target audience—consider your audience). It helps to be behind a mask, the mask obliterates the ego—but I am the same in person, the mask does not own me (I own the mask). It’s hard to get a grip on, just like a very smooth black stone in your mouth. It’s light and dark—and how they contend with each other, that’s why I’m so soft and so hard.


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