How many times can a man trip over the same stone?
I feel suffocated because my human interaction has been reduced to it's almost absolute minimum (just imagine when I live alone). I bore of the usual people and I'm getting paranoid that I'm starting to fill in a familiar place among all around me (when that was exactly what I was trying to avoid). It's not to my advantage because I get sick in very tight circles.
I spent a very long time thinking about my situation, about how heat affects that (literally...it's too damn hot). I can't look to my family because I promised something a long time ago and that promise has not been fulfilled. I can't look to my friends for the same reasons.
Drawing energy from oneself is hard, but in my life there isn't much else I can do. It's either that or grow roots (and that's also something I don't want).
My only weight and my only fault...that of my thesis.
At the same time, I feel the burning of my ancestor's longing. Their memory of a once proud race that had nothing but curiousity for the nature of things, even if it meant condemning their own gods to obsoletion.
I speak for the nahuatl, through them I speak for the maya and through both, I speak for all ancient mesoamerica. My strength comes also from the songs of africa, both jungle and desert. For them I can hear the world: the germans, the italians, the english, the french, the japanese, the chinese and all the other distant realms of mankind's spirit. I can even hear and attune to the call of distant India, the cradle of the ancient world.
posted at: 03:14 | path: | permanent link to this entry