I found myself able to look emotionally into this, and I feel like a soldier who has seen fields littered with dead bodies, dead bodies everywhere, like Antietam or Gettysburg must have looked. You see this death, and you want to help, to do something, but there is nothing left. There are no souls to be saved. There is merely the burying or the burning. There is silence, and it is not a living silence, but a gaping dark void.
And I feel too like I haunt myself. I am a ghost to myself. I am both parties in the film The Others. I am the new tenants, and the ones who never left. There is a split, but there is also a new communication, something which has not happened before, a possibility of ending the spell.
This is all right hemisphere stuff. I could intellectualize it, but won’t at this point. I am merely conveying feelings I should be writing in my journal, but for whatever reason feel like casting out into the Somewhere and Anywhere, the mists and vacuums of this global electronic thing, which would stop in a moment if it were ever unplugged, the Center we all look into without seeing anyone else, except sideways.