Sunday, April 29, 2007

Postcards from Interzone

The past four days have been a tempest of utter abandonment, impetuous decisions and broken rules.

And just when I had a routine and things were picking up a drumbeat and pace, and when I had forgotten the vulnerability that comes with have any sort of emotions at all. Outrageous fortune, indeed.

But all the rules I broke were my own, and if I wrote them I suppose I can change them. There is one last rule that remains intact - and by virtue of the fact that it is the sole remaining rule - it is also the sum of all I have ever believed in, distilled to to barest essense and if I were to lose this, I may lose everything.

I am exhausted with my return to reality.



What to ourselves in passion we propose,
The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
The violence of either grief or joy
Their own enactures with themselves destroy:
Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;
Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.
This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange
That even our loves should with our fortunes change;
For 'tis a question left us yet to prove,
Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.

- Hamlet, Act III, Sc II

1 comments:

gopi said...

fucking cheem lah.