Sunday 18 September 2011

Chimera.

It is uncanny how you are every protagonist I've encountered in the books I read before I go to bed. The serious English schoolboy with a club foot, the dirty old islander of many worrying fetishes, a six foot dwarf unequipped for irony, a Brazilian Alpha male who cries at the drop of a hat. Sometimes you're even the women in my books. For years I wondered how you could be all of these people; was I desperately in love with you and just didn't know it yet? Or did I know you so well, I could seek out these kernels of your astronomical personality as unapparent as they were to everybody else. But it isn't either. Quite the opposite, actually. Your face is a blank mask that doesn't twitch, not even when I'm in pain. You are these protagonists in one way and one way alone - you are all creatures cobbled together from imagination, meant to be romanced and then let go of. And when I shut my books, you crumple in a lifeless heap. Reality is no place for your kind.

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

i wonder why this post is titled 'Chimera'!!!

payal.k said...

This is a poignant and yet insanely beautiful post. And like I must have said somewhere else on this blog, it is an absolutely terrific blog and you are one of the best writers I have ever come across! :) Cheers

Gyurkovics said...

Thank you, I'm very flattered. :)

The Dictionary said...

@Anyonymous
Chimera -n /kīˈmi(ə)rə/
A grotesque product of the imagination.

shaista said...

hah! the only resemblance that came to my mind wid the title of the blog was the name of the virus in MI2.

C said...

"A fanciful mental illusion or fabrication."

I meant it in its loosest sense.

Aamna said...

"And when I shut my books, you crumple in a lifeless heap. Reality is no place for your kind."

Beautiful.

Vedashree Khambete-Sharma said...

I see Carrot here. Also, intriguing post.