Tiya Elsa.
Her life’s tortuosity is a high wall between rationality and dementia. And she is but some dawdler facing that wall either sagely or with imbecilic ignorance. She struggled with the last drop of her might, not to cross the solid-standing demarcation of the so-called state of mind. She is a brave woman for she managed not to cross the other side of the wall longer than expected.
She was halfway through her life when one day, the fates offered her a ladder of japery, grief, tragedies and misfortunes. She became jaded enough to be proselytized. She did it, she climbed and reached the other side of the wall. Her new life then became a paroxysm of enigmatic existence separated from herself. She became a helpless creature who stands in a gruesome boulevard clutching her purse of sanely sweet memories while looking at the blurry image of the wall.
She craved for hands to give her a ladder and pull her back to where she once belonged but she failed. No one seemed to care for the rough-hewn old woman from behind; sick weary and dying. As the other half of her life passed by, she faced that cold, bleak wall engraving her epitaph without a tombstone. And now, with faltering soul, she smiled for she knew she will suffer no more. No more walls.
It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane. ― Philip K. Dick, VALIS
Her life’s tortuosity is a high wall between rationality and dementia. And she is but some dawdler facing that wall either sagely or with imbecilic ignorance. She struggled with the last drop of her might, not to cross the solid-standing demarcation of the so-called state of mind. She is a brave woman for she managed not to cross the other side of the wall longer than expected.
She was halfway through her life when one day, the fates offered her a ladder of japery, grief, tragedies and misfortunes. She became jaded enough to be proselytized. She did it, she climbed and reached the other side of the wall. Her new life then became a paroxysm of enigmatic existence separated from herself. She became a helpless creature who stands in a gruesome boulevard clutching her purse of sanely sweet memories while looking at the blurry image of the wall.
She craved for hands to give her a ladder and pull her back to where she once belonged but she failed. No one seemed to care for the rough-hewn old woman from behind; sick weary and dying. As the other half of her life passed by, she faced that cold, bleak wall engraving her epitaph without a tombstone. And now, with faltering soul, she smiled for she knew she will suffer no more. No more walls.
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| via Notes from the Katesian Theater |
It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane. ― Philip K. Dick, VALIS
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