Lomofish's Blog

July 9, 2010, 1:02 am
Filed under: General

I am sitting and watching paint dry, well not actually, but nearly. I am watching bits of data burn onto disks, one bit of data at a time, slowly, precisely, verifiably. I have a whole lot of disks to write and I am sure it will take me the rest of the evening, the problem is I am not certain if I will be able to keep myself awake through the processes.

While I sit here at my machine, the world outside my office is quite and asleep. I am afraid if I move I shall wake someone and disturbed them from their land of dreams. Oh how beautiful dreams are, they are little quite islands far away from the noise and drama of reality.

One of my favourite poets is Jorge Luis Borges. Borges’s is able to drape words onto paper in a magical and mysterious way.  When I read his work I slip into the world of  magical realism, a place where magic and reality co-exist, where labyrinths lead you to loved ones and darkness becomes a treasure house . If you have not experienced the writings of Borges I suggest you put them on your ‘must read’ list.

The Dream by Jorge Luis Borges

While the clocks of the midnight hours are squandering

an abundance of time.

I shall go farther than the shipmates of Ulysses,

to the territory of dream, beyond the reach

of human memory.

From that underwater world I save some fragments,

inexhaustible to my understanding:

grasses from some primitive botany,

animals of all kinds,

conversations with the dead,

faces which all the time are masks,

words out of very ancient languages,

and at a time, horror, unlike anything

the day can offer us.

I shall be all or no one.  I shall be the other

I am without knowing it, he who has looked on

the other dream, my waking state.  He weighs it up,

resigned and smiling.



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