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The invisible city of the dead.Īll of you know what i am talking about and possibly know where i am going with this but let's assume none of us know. Or, in a moment of truth, with the name that everyone sues when theyre not addressing the presss, Neuropolis.
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He is describing what his research institute has grown to name "The Collective Of the Deceased Unconscious". The man's name is Charles Kane and he isn't talking about humanity and the strength of their beliefs, politics or religion. I can tell you, but you'll have to rpomise to try and understand what you will accept with an open mind, and give me advice by the end of this. Those words might sound like the ones you might hear from a self absorbed philosopher or a writer that hasdnt yet learned the lesson thatr all writing is nothing but a breeze in ahurricane, and still believed so strongly in the topic of his description that rhethoric took him over.Īnd what could be so important and unique that would drive who i discovered later, was an adult man, an atheist, a scientist that ceased to beluieve in science as hope long before, to write something almost embarassingly driven by emotion and hyperbole. waiting for the day in which it will incorporate us all"
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It's a fabric that wrtaps the reality of the daily mundane things and it's hole, its broken edges, its flawed texture, and almost lulls it to sleep. Of laughter and tears, bonded together in such perfectly symmetrical way that makes both resonate stronger. It's tight and rhythmic, it's made of sounds, lights and fury. "Their weaving is stronger than the fabric of reality. Those word, though, are still in my head. Now i am 45, i am a smoker, i am recently divorced and write essays like this for a living, which means that i have a stroing chance of not having anything like a future, or at least not one that involves walls that have the puprose of showing enlightening turns of phrase to my friends and neighbours. I once read a sentence on the pages of a book, which impressed me so strongly and created such a vivid, lively image in my head, that i decided to write it on a piece of paper and keep it, with the purpose of framing it and hangin in it on an unspecified wall of an uncertain place in my unfocused future.