Sunless
New member
- Joined
- Nov 21, 2009
- Messages
- 46
- MBTI Type
- INxx
In the ancient myth, Echo lost her voice to Hera and her heart to Narcissus. There was only one black place left for her as black as her heart was black as the empty space beside her. So in the woods she went to mourn her loss (heart and words) until her skin shrank, her muscles withered and time turned her bones to pulp. Only two things were strong enough to survive her: her voice and heartbreak. A voice that calls alone from the deepest of cliffs as if by dragging you in, you will dissapear beside her.
And the more I glide through these pages the more I wonder just how much the spaces that we inhabit resemble the spaces that inhabit us.
And maybe the ghost that lives in my bookshelf is less related to the dead authors (and their wounded spines), than to those spaces inside me haunted by the fear of my own words. Maybe what flies off a shelf is also flying within me. Maybe once I am gone, there will be nothing to remind me by but silence.
And the more I glide through these pages the more I wonder just how much the spaces that we inhabit resemble the spaces that inhabit us.
And maybe the ghost that lives in my bookshelf is less related to the dead authors (and their wounded spines), than to those spaces inside me haunted by the fear of my own words. Maybe what flies off a shelf is also flying within me. Maybe once I am gone, there will be nothing to remind me by but silence.
