WHERE IS THE KID I WAS?
This essay deals with existential questions of identity and sense of life. Like moth flying blind through the darkness of the night, longings from far to a light, where it comes to die - i wonder the sense of life. High-sensitive person, and impulsive, I spend a lot of my time running after time, like a boulimia of life by fears to miss something. I wish i could take pictures of my inner life's perception. Walking between psyche and reality. Here i tryed to portrait, my vulnerability, sadness, obsessions, fears, solitude, melancholia, nostalgia and other inward-oriented states of mind . An intimate poetic journey through the shadows of the time, the memories, the soul, and the millions ways we tremble ourselves into dust and try to hold the mental and physical cracks of our little tectonic heart. What if I was to develop a conscious desire to explore possibilities outside our conditioned thinking? I might become aware of what lies outside the box, I would perhaps see and hear things I was previously oblivious of. I would develop a creative tension between my desire to change and my resistance, which is a fear of the unknown; I could maybe then confront what was holding me back, and begin to open up enough to dissolve the old box, and create a new. For a while maybe there will be reduced attachment to the past and reduced anxiety about the future. It may sound like a cliché, but that doesn't make it any less true when I remind us that we are all unique individual. There will never be another person with the same personality, the same unique mixture of strengths and weaknesses, , the same set of talents, skills and creativityand the same breadth of emotional experiences.
As will say Samuel Beckett : "Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better."