Inside the Creatures

Each day is like a new birth, each moment is like a feeling of illocal. To jump out of the corner of one’s eye along all the lines, to circle around the verge of consciousness, to choose a face, carefully and tediously. A kaleidoscope of inner rhythm. So unconscious and instinctively, as if it was never for the first time, as if nothing’s real. Just whirling, again and again. And it embraces some nostalgia of permanence and statics. To recognize yourself among the hundreds of reflections in stranger souls, to recognize a different self, beside a mess of tart feelings in the palms of oncoming people, to experience yourself, essential, for achieving the most secreted goal. It is said that there is a forest with numerous paths, they say one might step out of it only as an extremely aged man holding barely visible piece of verity in his hands, they say if one chooses this way, he can domesticate an illocal forever.