Notes from a prison
One moment you’re calmly sitting in your cubicle sipping sugar saturated tea and then something hits you. Your soul leaves your body, floats above your head and scorns at yourself, mocking at what has become of you. Showing off its freedom ….“You can never be as free as me!”
“You are locked up forever in those crisp green papers that are handed over every month; no; wrapped around your legs to prevent you from running and binding your hands to prevent you from setting yourself free. They are your master, they are your prison. All that you hope and wish to accomplish, all comes down to how stronger this prison will be. You are young; there is your whole life in front of you to enjoy what you’re doing but now you have to build this prison, to protect yourself from this world”.
What a strange prison this is? It is created to protect the prisoner from this world. I want to break through this prison. I want to burn it down.
Then you feel like tearing-up these masks, these fakes, trying to cover-up everything, trying to make everything look wonderful, when it’s not. Why can’t I say whatever that is in my mind? Why can’t the world accept me as I am? Is there no end to this make believe. When do I actually start living and stop faking it?
*Image created by overlapping two photographs made in twilight, Feb 2011