Once again – as I have felt it so many times before – time is up to its usual tricks, reminding me that it might well after all only exist inside my brain…
It coils itself tightly like a threatened snake, slowing down to a hiss until an eternity seems to hang in mid-air, waiting for the strike. The rhythms around me appear to dash ahead and lose their depth while I curiously raise a hand in slow motion and watch my fingers wave against a background of furiously blurred, meaningless activity. It is a time of distancing, of chasms created and boundaries leveled. A time for counting one’s cards and preparing to throw them on the table, bluff exposed and hopes at their apogee.
Soon the jump will come and all bets will be off. There will be no turning back, nor one wanted. The deeper the dive, the stronger the narcosis, erasing layers of surface boredom, years of flatness and adding a dimension. Once again, this time for good, two routes intersect, two navigators plot a common position and one duo moves forward, and up. I am so ready.
Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing,
through the graves the wind is blowing,
freedom soon will come;
then we’ll come from the shadows.
Leonard Cohen – The Partisan
(Adapted from La complainte du partisan
by Emmanuel d’Astier de La Vigerie and Anna Marly)