There’s a virtual space, among thousands of them, called the inner world. Where free spirits run fast to the extremes of their imagination. There new ideas don’t have to be installed – it’s clear as the air on a bright day. The glaring light of God hypnotizes tempting one to approach. It seems on a limp into it all the rot, burdens, ugliness and children’s awful grimaces will crust of your memory. In the levitation you’ll go off, hyper-accelerated, vanquishing your anger and fear into the void, from which inertia and apathy will restore it to the world we commonly know.
Well hyperrealist romanticism is good. The thought of it is intensified when one’s especially trapped in the dreadful monotony of routine of the still real world. Sometimes it feels like being hooked up to the Internet and ignoring the world that bothers you and reaches its soiled greasy hands to grip you. Inclined to mute the sounds of annoying talk or over-sweetness of birds singing - replace them by loud virtual sounds of alternative rock! This is how I escape. It feels good. But then you feel hungry and angry, wake up to reality, the overloaded working schedule, things undone. The aftereffects of the getaway are depressing if seemingly satisfying. It’s heeling with the void.
My brother is considering a more real plan of quenching this thirst for freedom from all and everybody. A romantic adventure is thought of – a journey down south – himself, his close friend, and the newly repaired car. Well, guilty of eavesdropping their late night drunk conversation I may be, his enthusiasm inspired me myself. Lying in bed, overhearing sounds from the kitchen, I imagined my own escape to the warmth of the sun, freshness of the foaming ocean, pleasures of beachcombing.
Holding each time the diary in which I recorded myself a perfect drifter walking, a smile on the face drawn by the sun, in no particular direction, I recall the times when that home that held me back held me prisoner for so long was away, unreal, just a fantasy. There I was painless, abstract – my weeks unplanned. Still I think of the words that woman that drew from me, a bottle of contentment: “Una mirada! Su mirada es hermosa! ” Her remark echoes the other pretty comment that I am committed to - “Tienes buen Espanol” – it came from that Spanish senora, that was buying from me a sombrero in the beach store I worked. My reclusion with that Spanish manual from my parents and relatives (even on the holidays) obviously yielded fruit. Still very dear to me are those days, when I was making my first steps towards finding and revealing the alter ego – the light-hearted romantic, and an artist of some sort.
I imagine my brother getting a similar vibe from his recent dreams and plans. For the first time in a long time – I feel warm thinking of my brother, revealing his humor and funny sides (well, not to me – I just spied to my satisfaction). At least I can see his conceit peel off in my view. Though it is exactly his self-satisfaction that inspires me to leave us back here, I secretly hope he enjoys himself, while ready to reproach his behavior with family.
Life is too sad if the igneous desires are hold back. We risk burning down without actually enjoying the process. In the end, we will just poof! – gone! Well, I am, I am burning – burning up.
