When you start seeing beauty in the infections and the open sores, and when you see blossoming gardens, but rear away - when you prefer rotten verdures over them - then you need to start worrying. Not because there is something particularly wrong with you, but because everything is right with you, and that you have a long journey ahead. You begin to feel the rancid smell of your own composture blocking out the fragrant spring with all its greenery, and memories faint into grey smudge, and you feel dizziness and uncomfortability in your own skin, and you feel almost like... like psychosomatic vermin crawling under it, and when you feel the combined pressure of the world ocean resting on your fragile temples, something odd and new takes place. Let me tell you something; when you think about anguish and suffering, maybe you draw to mind broken bones, flesh lesions running amok with bright red blood, fingers bent backwards or perhaps the horrible sensation of fire engulfing the human body... Let us be clear: the real suffering takes place inside the human soul; catastrophes are somatoform... Do you know what that means, "somatoform"?
- "No".
Well, it means it h-
- "I have never heard the word before", she said.
Inga kommentarer:
Skicka en kommentar