Dear friend of my heart,
It is that time of the year, of the autumnal feeling everyone seems to be talking about. I feel something akin to exhilaration that has been stirred in a tidy broth of nostalgia. Nostalgia for a mystery. Nostalgia for that which isn’t yet. I wish to immerse myself in the thick of this not knowing, for the pleasure of life has been the pleasure of moving from obscurity towards clarity and arriving there, only for a moment of high that is soon forgotten, much like an orgasm. I don’t want to give in to despair about the forgetting or try to hold on to it by inscribing its nature in paper and memory using words and symbols… reading it over and over again… That is not how it works. Words and symbols come to mean different things.
Without a resurgence of obscurity there will be no movement towards clarity. It is not in the state of clarity that we live but in movement towards it, or away from it.
I hope you are doing well. The times haven’t been easy.
I wonder what this autumnal feeling is for you.
Yours in the mystery,
Prashant
Story Of The Footloose 