Thursday, October 15, 2009

It's about time

The basics of this blog would be, I suppose, the skeleton. My life in france. Is that what I should call it? My Life In France.

[last night in paris]

A story.

An old (and undoubtedly wise) man sits at the edge of a deep, dark hole. The old man, eating his apples and scratching his head, continuously watches Father Time walk by as he spends his days looking into the dark hole in wonder and amazement.

One day, along comes a young person, having just stepped out into the world of independance and choice. The person approaches the old man, and notices the pit of darkness. Overcome by curiousity, they ask where the empty space in the earth leads to. 'To the devil's door? To the core of the earth? To turtles all the way down?'

The old man chuckles in return. 'Those who stumble into the pit are never seen the same again!'

'Why? How?' the young person questions.

'They just are. This hole must lead to a very mysterious place.' The old man sighs.

The young person's mind continued to question. Where did this hole come from? Is there a Somebody who made it?
Curiosity must be fed, and right now it was starving. Driven wild from their own thoughts, the young person throws their body into the hole and begins to fall.

They fall and fall for hours. For days. For weeks. For months. They struggle to catch their breath in the still air their body rushes through. The light from the world they once knew has dissolved into utter darkness, and they miss the warmth of the sun. They miss their comforts and their familarities. There is a regret that creeps up and an unhappiness that takes the place of their curiosity.

'Why, why, why did I let my wonder drive me to take such an action!' The young person cried to themself.

But then, suddenly, something begins to happen. Something indescribable, for there are no physical features to describe, no language to draw an understanding. As they fall, the person begins to change. They shed their former self and become anew. They had known this would happen all along. They knew. But now they undertand.

Some time later, the old (and perhaps wise) man is still sitting by the edge of the hole, eating his apples and scratching his head. Eventually, he is welcomed by the sight of the young person once again. 'And so,' he says, 'where does the hole go?'

The young person replies, 'this hole reaches through matter itself, through the folded fabrics of reality. It leads to a very mysterious place.'

'You have changed,' the old man says. 'How did it happen?'

The young person looks the old man in the eyes. 'Experience taught me what knowledge could not.'

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