Delirium, diary, soul

THE PRiSONER

  And I watch as the last blue rectangle of the wall in front of me disappears. I have been here for a hundred years and I am going to stay here for another thousand. I am a prisoner. Unlike Kafka’s The Trial, I am not here for a crime I have not committed but… Continue reading THE PRiSONER

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identity, life, soul

THE BEGiNNiNG

  And, thus, under the ceiling of his room, with eyes open wide as the ocean, shining brighter than the sun, lay Kashiv. "This, then, is where people come to live; I'd have thought it more of a place to die.", the first lines of Rilke's , The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge, unsettled Kashiv.… Continue reading THE BEGiNNiNG