I don't know what's going on in this thread as I wasn't interested enough to go through the 29 pages.. But, I think that if Victor has indeed done all the things he says he's done and if his writing and thinking style really is as it seems, then he is a genius in spontaneity and creativity. Still, I am unsure about one thing. Does he take the creativity too far to be a healthy individual? There are different types of creative individuals and not all of them are healthy. I do appreciate the effort, though.. (Victor will say it's not an effort really, but something else, I'm sure...)
When you point out my contradictions in public, we are not connecting.
If instead of pointing out my contradictions, you were to tell me how you felt about me, particularly your negative feelings, we would connect.
As you wish.
Originally Posted by Victor
Rather, dear Q, you have joined the Typology tribe in the global village where there is no vanishing point, and no point of view, and no perspective. No wonder you feel disorientated. But always remember that disorientation is a sign you are learning something new - that is why each University year begins with Orientation Week.
So now we all feel the same thing at the same time - our thoughts and feeling are imploding into one another every time we log on.
Surely you have noticed.
The old East gave us the compass, so we learned to Orient ourselves.
The forefathers of the West, the Greeks, told us to look up at the heavens, and follow the stars.
So we perfected navigation.
And, now we move with ease, to each other, through each other.
We move, but we never reach.
The East is the West if you move but a step.
What is orientation? Is it me, to you, and you to me?
I navigate by moving, yet, I navigate to reach.
She told him, You'll follow the stars to reach me, guided by the pull of your heart.
He nodded, in her direction, and off he went.
She looked up at the stars, pushed away fear, pulled in hope.
The galaxy quivered in sadness when the star died.
The novelty of the Supernova.
A novel in the making.
The brilliance of the gaze was a haze through her tears.
That day, she retired her stargazing, put away the compass of her heart.
Because he failed to reach her.
They say opposites attract.
But the East was the East, and the West was the West, and never the twains did meet.
You move so well, but, what will you do, dear Victor, to reach me?
Have you noticed, our eden is to the East?
Nay, my west, your east.
Will you forefit your orientation, call your West my East?