seommah
Let us go on a spin. You stand, still as a statue; but the universe around you is spinning on an infinite loop, made of mirror pieces so all you actually see are reflections of yourself, patchy and cracked in between, spiraling around into crookedness. Your life flashes before your eyes. Emotions, all those you have kept bottled up in so long, become string to tangle your clumsy limbs. You breathe in suffocation and breathe out a lonely void.
Feelings fade, but memories stay. You look at an old friend like looking through thin air, but the nights you spent together light up into dawn in the inside of your eyelids. Your mind runs away, but your body remembers. Just like so, you are thrown into a cyclone, a myriad of things you cannot name. Then, you wonder to yourself as they are tossed and thrown at you: is any of this real? Are you feeling at all? Are you catching sentiment, or is it just an involuntary reaction of the body, a phantom limb of affection?
What are feelings? Are they not just a string of chemical reactions? If people are defined by what they feel, then, what are you?
"Mattia was far away. Fabio was far away. The current of the river made a faint, somnolent wish.
She remembered lying in the crevasse, buried by snow. She thought of that perfect silence. Also now, like then, nobody knew where she was. This time too, no one would come. But she no longer expected them to.
She smiled at the clear sky. With a little effort, she could stand up by herself."
- Paolo Giordano, "The Solitude of Prime Numbers"
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