Traces

I try to trace myself back to the origins- the unfilled, untouched, unblemished- because I am sure no one would be born like this. I am sure it has taken years for me to build so many walls around but I have this unusual faith that they were not always there; not so much a justification as a release or liberation letting me restore my faith in them; that after all, something had led to them, that they were built because it was needed so, and that it is okay to demolish them after a while as time comes and that in the meantime I can allow myself to come to terms with them, decorate them if I may and reside peacefully until that happens; that there is a ‘going back’ for me, that there is a home in the wilderness, a purity in my dialectics, a door in the walls.

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