Wednesday, April 07, 2004
Waking through the flames
Reading somebody else's blog. She writes, or rather wrote with an intensity that burns me. I have to step back and breathe after a few lines.
I can't read her.
This hasn't happened to me before. I'm too detached for it. And anyhow, who really writes that well?
So, day by day, I'm drawn to nibble on her words, but recoil as the bitelets sear me.
What must it have been like, to live through that?
Oh. But I already know.
I've been on both sides of her story now.
She reminds me of myself. And of someone else. And of Her.
Good wrting does that. It makes readers reflect, and empathise.
I wonder if my words ever have that effect on people.
******
Funny how randomly-triggered memories can reawaken forgotten emotions effortlessly, in a flash, but a cold-blooded reiteration of Before, in stark, severe completeness and chronological order fails to evoke the same response.
I guess it has to do with defence mechanisms, and needing even the smallest amount of time to bring them to bear.
Reading somebody else's blog. She writes, or rather wrote with an intensity that burns me. I have to step back and breathe after a few lines.
I can't read her.
This hasn't happened to me before. I'm too detached for it. And anyhow, who really writes that well?
So, day by day, I'm drawn to nibble on her words, but recoil as the bitelets sear me.
What must it have been like, to live through that?
Oh. But I already know.
I've been on both sides of her story now.
She reminds me of myself. And of someone else. And of Her.
Good wrting does that. It makes readers reflect, and empathise.
I wonder if my words ever have that effect on people.
******
Funny how randomly-triggered memories can reawaken forgotten emotions effortlessly, in a flash, but a cold-blooded reiteration of Before, in stark, severe completeness and chronological order fails to evoke the same response.
I guess it has to do with defence mechanisms, and needing even the smallest amount of time to bring them to bear.
