Says Benedick (to himself)
Before Beatrice enters
(Act II, Scene iii).
And so I do -- without much
ado. Except, I don't
people it with people,
really. A friend called it
Slavic animism once
(it was the summer of
bare feet, long words
and short nights).
What it is, actually,
is an exercise in
exploding loneliness
into a population of animas,
protective and personalized,
sending signals and
reasserting the rightness
of this moment in this
your life, reflecting
your defragmented
you, showing it
in the light.
A comforting mirage
of external meaning
revealed in the
quotidian to the observant --
this is certainly
not what Benedick
had in mind when he
set to people the world
with Beatrice. Too
metaphysical, that.
And, ultimately,
profoundly lonely.
No comments:
Post a Comment