A blank sheet. Untarnished for either creation or destruction. A fresh canvas to convey the imagery that is our lives. What is important enough to dictate? What metaphors significant enough to share? Words can only display so much of intent. Lost in the translations of feelings and thoughts are so many of the little nuisances which make up the mind.
We try and convey messages, our nature of being- but it lacks the hue of perspective that we ourselves hardly acknowledge. That portion of our being which, by its very nature, cannot be said. You can show anger: by yelling, by throwing physical objects- it appears in our body language: that reddening of the face, the beads of sweat that drip down; but we can never share how it truly feels. That burning passion for destruction; destruction of that which we don’t agree with, the destruction of what does not conform to our views of how things “should” be.
Metaphors constitute the very core of what we deem as “self.” The maps which we use to connect to others are our very limitations. When we go beyond the map that we have created, we must design a new one; one that shall incorporate the very symbologies which we had no reference for.
